#telling him that slaughtering his way through the separatist forces was all for him

[difeisheng]

god is this what happens to your brain when you haven't finished writing a fic in five months

[phoenixyfriend]

Jangobi 5 for the soulmate thing? Because that would make the fight on kamino just *chef's kiss*

soulmate au prompts

5. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you touch them.

Apparently there’s never any skin to skin contact in the movie? Because armor? So......... we’re gonna just. Quick little thing.

Also I’ve been doing a lot of “marginally less shitty” Jango, but this is just-as-shitty-as-canon Jango. It’s, uh, not much of a romance, because Kamino. Actually it’s mostly just a lot of angry yelling about human rights violations.

...I’m sure they’ll get together eventually. It’s just, you know... it’s going to take a while.

------

Jango’s heard about this Jedi.

The man isn’t famous, or particularly acclaimed. It’s just that Mandalorians gossip, and Death Watch isn’t exempt, and Dred Priest still has friends in the terrorist group. So do a few others.

(Jango sometimes wonders if he’d have invited Priest, had he knows the monster was only a step away from being Death Watch himself.)

(Probably not.)

(He’d at least have been able to see the battle circles coming.)

Death Watch hates one specific Jedi above all others: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s almost enough to make a man like the pretty bastard, except the reason Death Watch hates this specific Jedi is because he kept Duchess Kryze alive, and Jango isn’t much of a fan of hers, either.

In the moment, though, the main thing this all means is that Obi-Wan Kenobi knows Mandalorian customs.

First meetings, out of armor, mean ensuring the arm clasp has skin contact.

His eyes flick down to where Jango is reflexively pulling up his sleeves, and the man just... does the same, sodden as the beige-on-brown-on-dark-brown robes are.

Jango can’t just play it off. He has to, ugh, arm clasp with a Jedi.

Kenobi probably guesses how unpleasant this is for him, going by the grim little smile that he wears, the one Taun We can’t read and Jango can, but they touch forearms and le--

They do not let go.

“Oh kriff,” Kenobi swears, and then it’s just... it’s too late. It’s too late to stop anything.

“Jetii,” Jango spits as if it’s a swear.

He doesn’t want to be soulmates with a Jedi. No sane person ever wants to be soulmates with a Jedi, but as a Mandalorian, and as specifically Jango Fett, who signed onto this project for revenge against Jedi, the idea is just... excruciating.

“For revenge? Not entirely unexpected, but I’m still somehow disappointed.”

“Stay out of my head.”

Kenobi smiles at him, completely devoid of anything but the blackest of humor. “Are you staying out of mine?”

And, well, no. They’re soulmates. Kenobi has more of an idea on how to control how far his mind wanders into Jango’s, but in this moment, just seconds after being bound together by the universe... Jango’s slamming into Kenobi’s shields with an embarrassing lack of control.

“Is something the matter?” Taun We asks.

“I do believe we need to speak alone,” Kenobi says. “Unfortunate timing, but this is our first meeting, and it appears we are soulmates.”

“Ah. We were informed of the human tendency towards such.” She blinks, too large eyes impossible to read for Kenobi, but entirely readable for Jango after all these years. She’s irritated. “I apologize, but it appears we were unable to remove such unpredictability from the product.”

A wave of revulsion leaks out of Kenobi’s mind and into Jango’s. The man just nods. “I understand. As it is, I imagine that the near instantaneous communication on the battlefield will be a boon, if any are bonded to each other or to active soldiers.”

“I defer to your judgement as client, Master Kenobi,” Taun We hums, still irritable. It’s less visible in her face, but... Kenobi can feel it. “I shall leave you to get... acquainted.”

Aaaaaaaand she’s expecting them to sleep together the second she turns her back. The disgust she feels at the thought of such carnal activities is thirdhand to Jango, but he can still feel it, because Kenobi can feel it, because they’re soulmates.

“Oh, do tell me how you really feel,” Kenobi mutters, sweeping past him into the apartment.

Jango wishes he could slam the door as he storms after the Jedi.

“Listen here--”

“Absolutely not,” Kenobi says, with the kind of bland, impersonal smile that Jango’s heard Dred Priest bitch about at least a dozen times. “I need you to answer me this: why are you selling your children into what is clearly slavery?”

“They’re not my children.”

“You choose to be dar’buir, then?” Kenobi clucks a tongue, acting like he can’t even feel Jango’s waves of hate that are just growing by the second. “Shame on you, Mand’alor.”

“I am not the Mand’alor.”

“No. You are demagolka,” Kenobi says, the sweet words of Jango’s first language falling from his lips like poisoned honey. “They are your children, Fett. Your clones, just as human as you.”

“They are little more than droids, Jedi. The Kaminoans--”

Kenobi laughs, sharp and bitter, and it’s enough of a surprise that Jango stops talking. The Jedi strides closer, and it takes everything in him to not step back at what little emotion the Jedi allows through.

“Let me show you,” Kenobi hisses, putting a hand on either side of Jango’s head and it’s too much this is not a sense he is meant to have.

Kenobi cannot lie to Jango, not in this mental space. Not in this existence. He can cherry-pick what he shows, he can exaggerate, he can hide, but he cannot present a falsehood.

What Kenobi shows him, as he pulls Jango into his mind and drowns him in the sensation of the Force, is how each and every clone shines, bright and unique and so very human, so very sentient, so very alive.

These are your children, Kenobi says, directly into his mind and with no room to pull away. If they choose to disown you for your crimes against them, then that is their right, but until they do, they are your responsibility. You’re playing in denial and cognitive dissonance, soulmate mine. If I have to drag you into caring for your children the way any Mandalorian would, then so be it.

“Kriff off,” Jango manages to grit out in the real world. Kenobi looks unimpressed, when he lets go. The sensations in Jango’s mind, the jangled distaste and horror and anger, those are worse.

“Are you going to be dar’manda?” Kenobi demands. “You, who were once king of your people, have you really sunk so low to be the worst of your kind? To be so horrible that even Kyr’tsad would be shamed? Or worse, approve?”

“You have no place--”

“You are violating one of the core tenets of your culture!” Kenobi shouts. “You are being the worst of what you could be, Jango Fett! The most important, the absolute most important element of your culture, the care and nurture of children, and look at what you’ve done--”

“The clones--”

“Your sons!” Kenobi growls at him. “Your children, Fett. I’ve a student that is, by every Mandalorian standard, my son. I know what it is to take in a child that is not yours by blood, to raise a foundling, and you are cutting off millions that are your blood. You aren’t turning away an orphan to another family because you cannot care for them as they deserve, you are breeding your children for war like bantha to slaughter.”

Jango throws the first punch.

Kenobi throws the second.

By the time the fight ends, the room is in ruins, for all that they do not draw blasters or sabers. Kenobi has Jango on his back, straddling his chest with knees on his wrists, a vibroblade to his neck. Kenobi’s lip is bleeding, and Jango thinks he might have caused a hairline fracture in the cheekbone. Both of them have at least one broken rib, and Jango’s currently blind in one eye from the blood pouring out of a cut on his forehead.

Kenobi’s a good fighter. If it weren’t for everything else, Jango might have even been able to appreciate that.

“You,” Kenobi growls, fisting one hand into Jango’s curls and yanking for emphasis, earning himself a snarl in return. “Are going to fix this mess you’ve helped create. If I have to drag the entire Jedi council, the entire senate, if I have to drag in all of Mandalore to make you fix this, I will.”

There’s determination in those words, angry and a little spiteful, but mostly just... disappointed.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” Kenobi spits out, like the words are hot coals. He’s expressive. Jango wants to like it, but mostly he just resents the trait. “I hoped to never find a soulmate; it just complicates things. Opsec becomes a nightmare and holding to the code is difficult. And now I have a soulmate, and he’s an absolute monster that views his own children as little more than droids.”

“War is going to come for them no matter what,” Jango manages to say, and Kenobi’s look is back to unimpressed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of the separatists. There’s an army of actual droids, metal and code, just waiting for the right moment to pick a fight. It’s too late to stop it.”

“...you’re not only raising an army of your own children, but engineering the war that’s going to kill them?” Kenobi almost screeches, and the wave of nauseous loathing that slams into Jango is almost enough to make him actually vomit. Kenobi didn’t pull punches, not in the actual fight and not in whatever mental battle they’re apparently having via emotions and words.

“I’m not engineering it,” Jango says. “I’m just one part in a bigger machine. I got my payment. The rest is on Tyranus.”

He doesn’t even stop the images from flickering through his mind, throwing the man who hired him under the speeder.

“Master Dooku?” Kenobi whispers, horror growing. “No, no, I killed the--the Sith can’t--I killed the one on Naboo, and the Council mentioned the Rule of Two, but... oh hells.”

“You know him?” Jango taunts.

“He’s my grandmaster,” Kenobi says, and Jango can’t imagine the rest is meant to reach him, but the undercurrent is there.

Count Dooku is, by Mandalorian law, Kenobi’s grandfather.

Jango... suddenly feels a little regret about the taunting.

“I’d rather you feel regret about your children,” Kenobi snaps at him. “Every single one of them is a person, one that you chose to bring into this world, and they are your children.”

The argument is going in circles, but there are still places to take this.

“Your army is all adults, Kenobi,” Jango decides.

“They are ten years old,” Kenobi retorts. “Accelerated aging, sure, but they are children.”

“They’re soldiers.”

Disgust again, the same thing Kenobi has felt every time Jango has reasserted the purpose these children were born to, the same thing Jango has told his son, his sergeants, himself, for over a decade.

“A son?” Kenobi whispers. “Is your denial that strong, Fett? That you would claim one and not the rest?”

“Payment,” Jango says, and lets Kenobi feel the rest, since he seems so karking keen on it.

“Keeping one child in exchange for letting yourself be the creator of a slave army,” Kenobi says, and he doesn’t seem impressed. “Weren’t you a slave? Two years on a spice ship, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare--”

“And you would put your sons in chains,” Kenobi hisses, hands going for Jango’s head again. It’s a sense memory, this time, of dark tunnels and exploding collars and a dar’jetii that... was his older brother. According to the Jedi way of thinking.

It’s a twisting fear and pain and I will die so that others may live while looking at an older man, a Master, who can maybe save the other slaves at the expense of one too-angry Initiate’s li--

“Get out of my head!” Jango roars, and he still can’t move his arms, and his legs are held down by the Force, but he twists his head to bite and Kenobi snatches his hands away.

Kenobi glares down at him, almost sneering with the amount of disdain he has for Jango’s general existence. “I’m your soulmate, and had we met fifteen years ago, I might have even thought that an alright thing... but whatever you are now isn’t something I can abide by. You won’t listen to morality, so let me say this instead: a Jedi does not kill an unarmed opponent, but I have full authority to arrest you, even here. I will take you back to the Republic, to be tried for your collusion with a Sith, and you will go to prison. You can try to run, but I am in your head, and you’re in mine. Once you’re in prison, what happens to your son?”

The implication is there, but even if it wasn’t, Jango hears the thought:

They’re soulmates. The Republic would place Boba with Kenobi.

He refuses to have his child raised by a holier-than-thou Jedi.

“Holiness doesn’t have any meaning in Jedi philosophy,” Kenobi says, relaxing just the slightest bit. “Other religions, yes, but no place in ours.”

“You’re a self-righteous bastard,” Jango says flatly. “Despite threatening a child.”

“You mean threatening to take custody of a child being raised in an unhealthy environment, one where he’s being taught to devalue his brothers, engendering a mental dissonance where he has to convince himself he’s special for a reason and that you won’t just drop him if he fails to be perfect?” Kenobi asks. “I prefer to keep children with guardians who love them, but the argument that he’s better off away from you isn’t a difficult one.”

“Oh, like a child-stealer--”

“My mother tried to drown me when I was a toddler,” Kenobi says, even flatter than Jango had been a minute earlier. “Because I was Force-Sensitive, and it was considered curse on my home planet. A Jedi saved me. Tell me that was a kidnapping and not being saved.”

Jango grinds his teeth. “You’re damned smug whenever you have some sob story that outranks mine.”

“This isn’t about who has the bigger sob story,” Kenobi says, and Jango can feel how he’s just as ready to start clenching his jaw to deal with Jango’s bullshit. “It’s about you doing your damned job as a Mandalorian and a father, and taking responsibility for your children. All three million of them.”

It really, really is a pity they didn’t meet before Jango took this job. They could have been great together.

As it is, Jango goes for the groin shot the second Kenobi lets him back on his feet.

[bimswritings]

Savage Opress x Reader

Request: Open

Warnings:Yandere Themes, canon-typical violence

Summary: On their conquest of the universe, Savage finds himself drawn to one of the newest captives in their spread of power.

A/n: The next chapter of ‘This is our way’ is up on my Ao3. It will be posted here after I finish and upload my current Armorer x reader fic.

__________________________________________________

Your planet wasn’t anything special. Located out in the outer rim, it was little more than a moon compared to its neighbors. Its land was barren and cold, an almost ever present frost covering the ground.

Yet you and your people had made it your home, learning how to grow a small amount of crops and mine the rare metals underneath. A job you had yourself, providing enough money for you and your younger brother to live on until he was old enough to work as well. What was produced was enough to give your people an economy, yet remain under the radar and out of the war that ravaged the rest of the planet. The Republic and Separatist had limited interactions this far out at best, and you were able to enjoy a peaceful life, if not a bit exhausting.

Unfortunately, it was this isolation that had been your saving grace for so long that also proved your downfall.

Their ships arrived in numbers you had never seen before, landing on the grey dirt and unloading copious amounts of armored men and women. Your village didn’t even have time to put up a fight, overpower and subdued before you could even think of a weapon to protect yourself.

Soon you were corralled into the town center, separated into groups seemingly at random. Families were torn apart, mother from child and husband from wife. The entire time your brother clung to your leg, hiding as the armed guards shoved you along through the crowds. You tried to stay out of sight the best you could in an attempt to draw the least amount of attention to yourself, hoping, praying, that you could go unnoticed enough to keep him with you.

Above it all, standing out against the dull sky with their vibrant colors, were two Zabraks. Creatures you had only ever heard about in stories from the occasional trader that passed through, and had been just that, stories, until now. Their horns alone were enough to send shivers down your spine, each one protruding from the crown of theirs heads like a twisted version of a crown. Unlike a crown, you knew they weren’t for decoration. The damage they could undoubtedly do if provoked only solidified their threatening presence.

Now they stood above you all, tattoos illuminated in the light of the setting sun. The shorter red one stood in front, chin raised and chest puffed with pride as he looked over your people with another armored man, this one clearly human. He seemed to not even notice the cold, bare chest on full display for anyone to see the unique markings that marred his skin. Just beyond him stood the second Zabrak. His yellow markings stood out even more than his companions, only emphasized by his large size. None of the others even came close to his height, let alone the bulk you could tell he possessed under his armor. Even from here you could tell he could wrap a single hand around your neck and snap it easily with his strong fingers.

His gaze was just as impassionate, if not more so, seeming more bored than anything as he watched the proceedings.

“Come on! Move it!” One of the guards yelled, catching your shoulder as he pushed you forward, reminding you bitterly of Telik being led to slaughter. You kept Jay close, keeping your head down as you passed more guards, pace increasing. Just a few more yards and you would be with the others. Whatever the future had in store for you, at least you would still have each other.

“Hey, you!” A voice called, clearly directed your way, though you pretended not to hear. A cold sweat broke out across your skin as footsteps closed in, hand reaching out and stopping you in your tracks.

“Children don’t go in this area.” He growled, prying Jay from where he hid, ignoring his cries and your screams as he was pulled away. A guard stepped forward to hold you back, another coming to his aide as you fought to get to your brother, who was making it just as difficult for his own captor to drag him away. Even with the muscle gained from the mines you struggled against them, putting up your own desperate fight.

“Stop moving you little- fuck!” He yelped, pulling his arm away and out of Jay’s mouth, which had latched on to the only unarmored part of the hand holding him.

Immediately he turned and was running back towards you, tears streaming down his face and blue eyes wide with fear. In his panic to get back, his childish coordination caught up to him and his feet caught on one another, throwing him to the ground as he was left to scramble. All the while the guard he had bitten approached. 

“You little brat!” He snarled. His hand moved to his hip, producing a whip from its depths. The long weapon crackled to life, sparking with energy as it extended to full length.

Your own stomach dropped in fear as you watched. 

Jay, the one light in your life, the only person you had left, was in danger. You were his older sister. You were supposed to protect him, guide him into adulthood in place of your parents. Be there to kiss away every injury, wipe away the tears after every nightmare.

A new burst of energy flooded your system, giving you the strength needed to push past the guards, leaving them stumbling as you flew towards Jay.

The man brought his arm down, whip swinging in a wide arc aimed at the defenseless boy on the ground. 

It didn’t even have the chance to hit him. You slid the last few feet on the rough terrain, body covering his at the last second and jolting as the electric weapon met your clothed back, ripping through the material like a stone through water. A pained scream tore itself from your lips. Not even when you had gotten a burn from a small explosion in the mines had it hurt this much. In fact, you would take a dozen burns before this. This was just pure agony, the pain not even limited to a single area as the electricity coursed through every part of your body, invading every nerve.

The man was far from done though, and he repeated the action again and again, turning your skin into a bloody mess as Jay continued to cry underneath you, struggling in your protective grip. Still you held tightly, biting your lip to muffle your cries with every lash.

No one lifts a finger to help, not even looking in your direction in fear of the same treatment as they continue to shuffle along. You don’t even have it in your heart to blame them, knowing your reaction would be much the same if the situation was reversed.

Unbeknownst to you, your little altercation has caught the eye of the golden Zabrak, a small twinge in his heart at the deja-vu feeling he gets from the scene. From your age, he can only assume that the boy is your brother. You look too young for him to be your son.

He has flashbacks to his own brother, giving himself to the cursed Nightsisters in exchange for his life, only to be forced to kill him in a cruel show of power.

Before he realizes it, his hand has fallen to his lightsaber, already taking a step to where you are. He only gets a step before Maul calls to him, pulling him away to the ships and leaving him to look back over his shoulder at you crumpled form.

“Come. We must set up camp. The prisoners will be dealt with later.” Maul chuckles. “Those that survive anyways.”

And so he follows, leaving your fate to the Mandalorian who has yet to relent in his cruelty. But out of sight doesn’t mean out of mind, and the memory of your form curled on the ground, taking every lash with little more than a jolt and muffled cry, sticks in the front of his mind and prevents him from having a single moment of rest.

It's hours before he’s able to slip away. Between his brother and Death Watch, it’s nearly impossible for him to make his way to where the captives are being held. They’re all gathered in one of the far corners of the camp, held in place by the ropes around the wrist and looking miserable as they huddle for warmth against the lightly falling snow. He feels no guilt for what their eventual fate will be. They’re nothing to him, mere insects in his brothers plans. Animals to the slaughter. All for the greater good.

The fear he can feel radiating off them feeds a twisted sense of pride within him. The Sith side of him. They know who he is. They know he could easily kill them with no consequence should he choose. 

He’s not here for them though.

A dozen yards away, your body is still laying in the same spot as before, more lifeless than when he last saw you. This time there’s no Mandalorian enforcer above you. Instead, he’s replaced with the small boy from earlier. What remains of your shirt is peeled back from the skin and even Savage, who’s used to many grisly sights, grimaces at your wound. The skin that isn’t lacerated is red and swollen, and he now notices that the young boy has shed his own shirt, using ripped strips to clean the blood away and form a crude version of bandages. He’s busy fumbling over himself, fingers clumsy and stiff from the cold as he does his best to care for the wound with no medical supplies.

So focused on your wounds, he doesn’t even hear the large Zabrak approaching, not until it’s far too late. To his credit, and Savage’s amusement, the boy refuses to leave you, placing his body in front of yours. His bare chest is rapidly moving up and down with fear, thin body on full display. Not an ounce of muscle on him, Savage muses, moving closer to your body. If he doesn’t get you proper medical attention soon the wounds will undoubtedly become infected and kill you, if the blood loss hasn’t already damned your fate.

When he goes to pick up your limp body however, he’s stopped by your brother. Well, stopped is being rather generous. It’s more like he’s latched himself onto Savage’s waist, small fist beating at him with the strength one would expect of a child. He might not have even known he was hitting him if he wasn’t watching it happen.

It’s times like this that he’s most grateful for his cursed strength, easily detaching the boy from him and holding him by the back of his neck, tucking him under one arm as the other reaches for you. It's almost concerning how cold your body is against his own skin, and he’s more careful as he lifts you over his shoulder. His brother would surely find it laughable if he saw how gentle he was being with you.

Without hesitance, he turns back to the main camp, ignoring the looks the others cast his way as he carries your unconscious and broken body over his shoulder, your brother still fighting under his other.

Let them gossip. There’s none that will stand against him.

____________________________________

The first thing you’re aware of is warmth. Surrounding and enveloping your form, begging you to stay as it threatens to drag you back into the land of dreams. That in itself is enough to alarm you. The heating was always turned off at night to save energy, replaced in favor of thick blankets made from the local TekTek wool.

That’s your second red flag. TekTek wool is warm, yet coarse and scratchy. The fabric currently piled on top of and under you is significantly softer, having a slight musk to it.

Finally managing to drag your eyes open, the sight that greets you is not one you were expecting. 

Dark fabric makes up the majority of the tent you find yourself in. It’s clearly worn, yet does a surprising job of keeping the wind outside from entering, slight ripples waving across the fabric yet never entering. A fire sits in the very center, smoke curling up and through a hole in the ceiling. It’s glow provides the only source of light in the space, illuminating the few objects scattered around, including the cot you currently find yourself residing on. Buried under layers of blankets, your hands travel to the bandages wrapped around your chest, the only thing covering your upper body and providing little warmth in comparison to the blankets you were previously under.

How did you get here? Where was Jay? The last thing you remember was the invaders arriving, then nothing. So the question was, how had you gotten from there to here? Alone in an unfamiliar tent.

Your questions are soon answered, a shuffling from the front of the tent drawing your attention. From between the flaps emerges a large figure, his horns nearly catching the fabric as he enters.

You both freeze, eyes locking on one another, equally surprised. There’s a moment of pause, each of you trying to determine your next move. It’s only broken when he takes a step forward, cautiously, but still sending you into a panic. Ignoring the nearly debilitating pain coming from your back, you scramble to the edge of the cot, pressing your back against the fabric and you can feel it straining against your weight. Trying your best to look intimidating, you send a glare his way.

“Where’s my brother?”

He says nothing for a moment, and you almost repeat yourself, cut off as he begins approaching. He’s there before you know it, long legs easily eating the space as his arms reach for you, forcably turning you around despite your resistance. He lets out a grumble as he inspects your back, scoffing about how you’ve ‘reopened them’.

The next thing you know, his hands are worming their way under the wrappings, loosening them as he goes to remove them.

The panic you had felt before was nothing compared to now, knowing where this scenario was going all to well. The stories of what you had heard from other village girls filling your mind, darkening your thoughts as you could only imagine what this monster was about to do to you.

“No! Stop!” You sobbed, knowing full well that there was nothing you could actually do against his strength. The bandages become looser, only held up by your hand as you wildly swing out with the other. All the while you try to distance yourself from him. 

“Please!”

To your surprise, he pauses. His first sign of even showing he heard you since entering. His gaze never leaves you, and you can see the debate going on within his eyes. About what, your guess was as good as any. All that you cared was that he had stopped for the moment, allowing you to cover yourself with one of the many blankets in an attempt to preserve any decency you had left.

Growling, her turns and storms out the way he came, a wisp of freezing wind invading the tent as you're given a glance at the dark night sky outside before you’re once again left on your own. Not for long though, and you think he’s returned once again when the flaps open, only to reveal a young woman in similar armor that you had seen earlier. Not the person you trusted the most right now, but you still preferred her over the large Zabrak from earlier.

She approaches slowly, setting a medkit down on the bed as she smiles your way. “I’m here to change your bandages.” She extends a hand your way, which you only look at, neglecting to come out of your little corner. 

“Please. You’ve opened your wounds again. If you don’t come out now, I’ll just wait for you to pass out and change them then.” she sounds a bit exhausted, and it takes a few more minutes of coaxing before you allow her access to your back, keeping your back towards her as she slowly unwraps the bindings. She deposits them into the fire, leaving you to watch them burn to ash as she retrieves a small container from the medkit. 

Inside is a blue gel, surprisingly warm as it touches your skin and leaves a pleasant numbness. You can almost feel her gaze burning into your skin as she applies the gel, eyes skittering across old scars, fingers even tracing them when visible underneath the new wounds. Seeming to sense your unease, she rushes through the rest, quickly wrapping new bindings around your torso, apologizing with every small grunt of pain you let out. 

Far too quick for your liking she’s done, packing up her things as she prepares to head out. If she’s leaving, then that means there’s more of a chance that he’ll come back. In fact, you have no doubt that she’ll go and tell him once she’s out of here.

Snapping the case closed, she turns back to you and hesitates for a moment.

“I don’t know what you did to gain Savage’s attention, but believe me,” her green eyes lock onto yours, holding a sense of severity that chills you to the bone. 

“, he’s your best chance of surviving.”

With that you’re alone once again, left to your own thoughts and the crackling of the fire, which has gone down a significant amount since you first woke.

What did she mean by that? Gained his attention? And he was one of the ones who lead the attack on your home. Why would he be your saving grace? If anything, he would be the most likely to kill you.

Once again the flap opens, and you almost want to groan about the number of people going in and out, letting the heat out of the tent.

It’s the Zabarak. Savage, you remember the woman from before calling him. This time he has some additions. A cloak draped over one arm and a plate in hand. He moves slower than before, almost cautiously approaching you as he sets the items on the far end of the bed.

“Eat.” His voice is a deep baritone, rich yet monotone as he speaks, nodding towards the plate before moving towards the fire. Your eyes never leave his form as he tosses more wood onto the flame, moving them about without a fear of burning himself. Despite the fear still gripping your nerves, the food is tempting and only now do you realize how empty your stomach is, almost turning in on itself as it lets out a low rumble.

You grab the plate cautiously, picking at its contents as the man continues to poke at the fire. When you do finish, you find yourself wishing you had taken more time with it, no longer having the small distraction from your current situation. Despite the desire to throw on the warm looking cloak, you don’t. While he had directed you to eat, he had said nothing about the cloak. The last thing you wanted to do was make him angry, especially after he had shown how easily he could manhandle you earlier.

“You’re going to travel with me from now on.” He spoke, his back still towards you, yet it still carried loudly through the air, leaving no room for you to mistake his words. “If you have any objections, your fate will be the same as the rest of your village.”

You have no idea why he’s saying this, not when he could just direct you without any information. There’s only one thing on your mind though, present from the very beginning and still burning on your tongue.

“Where’s my brother.” You ask once again, praying to the maker you’ll get an answer this time. “What about him?”

His shoulders tense for a moment. The first emotion he’s shown besides anger.

“He will be allowed to come along given that he trains as a Mandalorian warrior. This is the best option for him.”

You let out a sigh of relief. While being forced to train with the ones who captured him wasn’t an ideal situation, you could only be thankful that he wasn’t fated for something more unfortunate. The only thing that worried you was his size. He was never much of a fighter, too kind to want to cause others pain. You would need to be there for him.

“I...I can still see him.”

“Yes.”

You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should ask another question. He already seemed to be wearing thin with his patience, but you had to know. You would never get a moment's rest until you knew.

“Why am I here.”

He doesn’t answer right away, throwing a few more logs onto the fire before turning to face you. His face was nothing but shadows, eyes standing out in startling contrast. His footsteps were slow and heavy as he made his way over to your form, unable to back away any further as you already find yourself in a corner. He grabs the cloak as he passes, the article almost ridiculously small in his hands.

As soon as he’s close enough, he lifts his arms and you flinch, expecting him to strike you out of annoyance and anger. It never comes though. The only feeling was that of heavy fabric settling on your shoulders, only there a moment before it’s clasped and you feel yourself being pulled forward. 

Savage’s hands are wound tightly into the fabric, forcing your face to nearly touch his. This close you can see every detail of the markings splashed across his skin, the black only making his amber eyes burn even brighter, nearly suffocating with the intensity with which they stare. Almost like molten gold themselves.

His breath fans across your skin, lips nearly brushing yours as his forehead grazes your own, making you whimper as his horns roughly scrap the skin.

“You’re mine now. You will never leave my side, there at my every beck and call no matter what I may need. If you even think about trying to leave or betray me,” he pushed further, forcing you to lean back onto the bed. His weight pushed down enough to keep you in place without being crushing, one hand releasing the fabric of the collar to travel up your face. It brushes the hair away, catching the tear you hadn’t even realized had escaped.

“I’ll force you to watch as I kill your brother in the most painful way imaginable.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans forward, baritone voice speaking lowly in your ear as his lips tickle the skin.

“You’ll wish, beg, that I had killed you as well instead of what will happen to you after.”

[the-last-kenobi]

Ooooh may i ask for 24 for the dialogue ask with hurt Cody (and Obi-Wan as the rescuer/comforter)? I love your writing!!

Of course!! Thank you! <3 Cody deserves so much more attention than he gets.

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

-

They had dragged Cody and his contingent of nine others off the battlefield, whoever “they” were.

Obi-Wan had been occupied several klicks away, fending off far greater numbers of droids than they had been anticipating. The last he had heard from Cody was the distinctly suspicious report that Cody and his men were encountering virtually no resistance.

And then their comms went down, and by the time the rest of the 212th had beaten back the Separatist forces, Cody and the others were gone, leaving only the signs of an ambush and shallow grooves in the earth indicating that they had been quite literally dragged away.

“Sir,” Longshot said quietly.

“I need you to stay here and organize the men,” Obi-Wan said. “Make contact with General Skywalker, tell him where I’ve gone.”

“General, please bring at least a few of us,” Waxer said, his voice crackling through the busted vocorder of his helmet.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. Something isn’t right about all this. If I get closer to the situation and there’s need for backup, I promise I will call for you. But for now— no, I will go alone.”

The posture of his men showed that they were distinctly unimpressed with this decision. Longshot, the only one not wearing his helmet, looked at his General with open concern. “Sir, General Skywalker and the 501st can’t be more than an hour out. Can’t you wait for them?”

“No,” said Obi-Wan firmly. “I cannot. Longshot, you have responsibilities to attend to. Waxer, Boil, I’ll keep in radio contact.”

The 212th waited, on edge, while their General went off alone in search of their missing brothers.

Obi-Wan had only been walking for five minutes when he found the first body. It was Nip, one of the men with Cody, barely out of the “shiny” stage. Obi-Wan ran forwards and knelt beside him, but he knew it was too late; the feeling of stillness in the Force and the neat blaster hole through Nip’s chest plate told him that before he touched the pale wrist.

Obi-Wan sighed and radioed it in, instructing a small group to come collect their fallen brother.

Not three minutes after, he found another body.

And then another.

And two more.

The path the abductors had taken was littered with corpses as they deliberately eliminated one clone after another, whittling down their burden.

The youngest and least experienced first.

Whether they were guessing, or had beaten the information out of one of the brothers — as unlikely as that was — or they had inside information was unclear, but even soldiers of the same rank were eliminated by order of age. Youngest to oldest.

Until at last, his body and heart aching, Obi-Wan crested a hill just in time to see a shuttle speeding towards the atmosphere, carrying, he knew, only the unknown enemy and one Marshal Commander.

They had taken Cody and slaughtered the others.

And Obi-Wan felt a surge of anger such as he had not experienced since he saw his Master fall.

When Anakin arrived at the place where The Negotiator was grounded, it was to disarray — a quiet, controlled disarray, because Obi-Wan’s men were not prone to panic and disorder.

Anakin, on the other hand, accidentally shattered a broken down starfighter when Longshot informed him that nine Clones had been murdered, Cody captured, and that General Kenobi had taken a fighter and flown off in pursuit without so much as alerting the Council.

It took Obi-Wan three days to track the shuttle to its destination.

It took him another two to realize that — firstly, these were indeed Separatists, and not merely mercenaries trying to get on the good side of the Confederacy — and secondly, that they had switched ships and continued onwards.

Every discovery he made painted a darker picture for Cody.

He had been specifically targeted.

The other nine had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But what could they want with Cody? The possibilities were disturbing, ranging from being taken for the position he held and the information he possessed to simply being a bargaining chip or a trap to lure in Obi-Wan himself.

Obi-Wan turned aside from his pursuit just long enough to uncover an undercover ally on this backwater planet, leaving behind an informant who could talk to Anakin, who was no doubt chasing him.

“General Kenobi,” the informant whispered hastily. “What will you do if you can’t find the Marshal Commander?”

The Jedi paused in the doorway, his hands raised as he drew his cowl over his head, concealing his face. He stood there for a moment, the wind rustling his cloak.

And then he left without a word.

After the chaos and din of battle in close quarters, filled with blaster fire, shouts, the sound of bodies slamming against walls, and the hum of a lightsaber, there was a silence.

It dragged on for a minute.

Then there was a soft click, and the door beeped and slid open.

Light spilled in for the first time in an eternity, illuminating grimy walls stained with human filth and misery, and falling unflatteringly on the man sitting in the corner.

Cody had cuffs around his ankles and wrists, both of which were chained to the walls. He sat ramrod straight against the dirty walls, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands locked around his legs. His head was tilted back against the wall.

He stared into a dark corner and did not look at Obi-Wan once as the Jedi stepped softly into the room, his lightsaber extinguishing as he did.

Cody remained absolutely still.

Obi-Wan approached cautiously, sinking down to his knees and finishing his approach in a crawl, heedless of the filth. “Cody,” he whispered.

Cody still did not move.

“Cody?” Obi-Wan said again, and he slowly raised his hands and placed them softly, feather-light, over the manacles on Cody’s wrists.

The Commander gave a full-body flinch; his head jolted and there was a sickening thud as his skull slammed against the wall. Obi-Wan gasped and shifted one hand, wedging it between Cody’s head and the wall, cradling it gently. The Clone’s dark eyes roamed about wildly, sliding vacantly in every direction, and Obi-Wan realized with a sinking sensation that Cody could not see him. Could not see anything at all.

“Is someone there?” Cody demanded. His voice was hoarse from disuse — or overuse — and was pitched much too loudly. It echoed grossly off the walls, stiff and defiant and full of barely restrained fear. “Get your hands off me!”

Obi-Wan let go immediately, rocking back on his heels and staring at Cody, desperately waiting for the man’s eyes to focus on him.

“Cody?” he asked weakly.

But the Commander could not hear him either.

“I don’t know what it is you want from me,” the man said, voice wavering, too loud, too angry, too frightened. “I don’t know what you want from me. Tell me. Tell me, please. Please, give me back my hearing, please I want to hear, I need to see —” Cody broke off as his composure began to slip.

“Tell me what you want,” Cody whispered.

It appeared that even after thirty days of imprisonment, even Cody did not know why he had been taken.

Obi-Wan’s face twisted. These missing senses could be permanent, or it could be temporary. It could be drug-induced, or physical damage.

But right here and now, his Commander was blind and deaf and terrified, and Obi-Wan felt the weight of guilt and failure crushing him.

Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his hands again.

This time, he placed them on either side of Cody’s face, feeling new scars and too-prominent bones, and with a whisper of the Force he put all the warmth and gentleness he could summon into that touch.

Cody remained rigid. His expression stayed as professionally blank as it could, but the dark eyes flickered with doubt.

Obi-Wan prayed that this was the right thing to do.

He kept his hands on either side of Cody’s face, and with the Force he unlocked the cuffs and cut loose the chains.

Cody inhaled sharply through his teeth.

Obi-Wan let out a trembling breath and gently tilted Cody’s head forward, away from the wall, and then leaned forward and pressed his own forehead to Cody’s.

For a moment they remained that way, half-shrouded in darkness, one unable to see or hear, both of them trembling slightly, the smell of battle and sweat on the air.

And then Cody took a shuddering breath and collapsed, crumbling forwards, and was caught immediately by his Jedi. “General Kenobi,” Cody gasped, and there was no doubt at all in his voice.

“I’ve got you,” Obi-Wan said, even though he knew the Commander couldn’t hear him. He wrapped his arms around the other man and just held him for a moment, knowing Cody would hate to be carried but was not yet strong enough to walk.

Eventually, he would have to find a way to help Cody walk out of here, have to face whatever realities were behind his condition, deal with the motivations behind his capture. The Marshal Commander would despise this moment of weakness, would hate it if Anakin and the others no doubt on their trail witnessed this.

But for the moment, they could just take time to breathe, and let relief wash over them.

fin.

[redrobinhoods]

Sticks and Stones | Chapter 5, goodbye to the silence

AO3 Link | 2,300 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: Stone grows more comfortable with Riyo's presence as the war draws to a close. 

“Senator Chuchi?” Stone stopped just inside the doorway to Fox’s office. He’d expected the room to be empty, not to find Riyo sitting in Fox’s chair, her feet up on Fox’s desk, with Rys slumped over on the desk opposite her, asleep.

“Commander Stone!” She greeted him. “Fox is off responding-.”

“-to the prison breach.” Stone finished the sentence for her before he made up his mind and stepped fully into the room, allowing the door to close behind him. “I thought I’d just return these datapads without a conversation, but it appears I was mistaken.”

“He asked me to keep an eye on Rys while he was gone.” She gestured apologetically to the sleeping man.

“Right. It’s physical time for the officers.” That meant hypertests. “I should’ve told him to take the day off.”

Riyo raised her brows. “Do clones get days off?”

“No.” Stone laughed. “But we give them anyways. Can do that here, without a Jedi breathing down our necks. And the Chancellor doesn’t care so long as he’s got Thire to run around for him.”

“How is Commander Thire? I assume he’s accompanying the Chancellor on his trip to Naboo?”

“I didn’t know the Chancellor was leaving Coruscant any time soon.”

“He’s taking a week off at the insistence of his aids.”

“Well, Thire has a physical scheduled for next week. He’s not going anywhere with the Chancellor.” Stone drummed his fingers against the stack of datapads in his hands as he contemplated if his next question was worth asking. “Riyo, assuming that the Redrobes are handling everything on Naboo, would you mind if we borrow Fox from you sometime next week?” For a moment, Stone feared that the look upon Riyo’s face was anger, he had seen that look many times before he or his brothers had been admonished by a senator, then she laughed.

“He’s your brother, Stone.” She straightened up in Fox’s chair and threw on her senatorial tone. “I give you permission to take care of Marshal Commander Fox, Commanding Officer of the Coruscant Guard, for the duration of one night in the upcoming week, provided that he be safely returned to a bed on that night.”

“What about early the next morning?”

“Or early the next morning.” She slouched back down into Fox’s chair and changed her tone. “What do you have in mind?”

“To be honest, Riyo, getting him and Thire absolutely piss drunk.”

Riyo laughed again and shook her head. “Fox will enjoy that. And I imagine all three of you need it.”

“We’re going to win this war, Riyo. It’s just a matter of staying alive until we get there.” He had initially been skeptical of Fox’s belief that the war was soon ending, but something was changing in the Senate. In just the past few days, something was in the air that hadn’t been before. The Outer Rim Sieges were coming to a close, and with them, an anticipation that Stone hadn’t felt since his last months on Kamino. They were all waiting for something promised, and something said that the time would be soon.

Riyo smiled up at him, then her gaze flickered towards Rys, who hadn’t stirred throughout the conversation.

“He’ll be alright.” Stone promised her as he made his way to his brother’s side. Shifting his hold on Fox’s datapads, he reached down to clasp Rys’ shoulder. When his brother didn’t stir, an idea came into his head. “Have Jek and Rys ever told you of the rampant corruption in the Guard?”

“No, they haven’t.”

“Well, you see, apparently some of the commanders are too soft to hold their men accountable for things such as betting rings and pranks. Because of this, they’ve gained some confidence in their actions.” Stone let go of Rys’ shoulder and reached for the datapads in his arms. “They’ve stopped believing in consequences.” Using the juts and crevices of the armor, he was able to lay the datapads across Rys’ shoulders without any casualties. “But I have nothing else to do this afternoon. Could you pass me the datapads on the cabinet?”

---

“That was you?” Rys stared astonished across the table at Stone while Jek laughed into the back of his fist. “I thought it was Jek, I’ve been snubbing him all week!”

“I told you I was innocent!”

Stone shrugged and swirled the blue liquid in his glass around. “I saw a chance and I took it, nothing more.

“I just didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Commander.”

“Rys!” Thire protested.

“I just might. Don’t tell the men.” Stone spared a glance towards Fox as he raised the glass to his lips. “At least I’m not the one shoving my men into trashcans. Not that Kilo didn’t deserve it.”

Fox lowered his head in faux shame. “Actions have consequences. I could’ve fit you too, you know.”

“I have too much dirt on you. Thire and I, we’re safe from the garbage.”

“And what dirt does Thire have?”

Thire raised his brow. “Your holonet history. And the stories Thorn told me, but I feel that the holonet history comes off as a better threat.”

“What does the Chancellor’s holonet history look like?” Jek pressed.

“Boring. Now, Mas Amedda’s history…” Thire shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “That’s a whole ‘nother can of joopas.”

“You’re a menace to Coruscant.”

“I’m just enjoying my one free week. I don’t have to worry about the Chancellor, I am a model of physical health, and they fixed the water heater in the barracks so toasty showers are back.”

“That’s the most important thing on that list.” Rys agreed. “Hot showers.”

“The Kaminoans must’ve hated your batch for going through all that hot water.” Stone said.

“Commander Thorn did log a few complaints about his squad using too much hot water on deployment.” Thire gave a weak laugh. “When most of your men are hot water fiends in a galaxy with water rations, beings get angry.”

Fox matched Thire’s sad smile. “That’s why I let him and Stone sweep your batch up.”

“Jek and Rys were forced on me by Thorn.” Stone corrected. “Sorry, you two.”

Jek shook his head sadly. “It’s okay, we know we were unwanted.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“How else do you want me to say it?”

When Stone laughed, he turned towards Thire to watch his brother’s reaction. With the Chancellor gone, Thire’s headaches had subsided little by little each day, and with them the stress of waiting on the leader of the Republic. Now, surrounded by his fellow commanders and batchmates, he seemed entirely at peace. It only made Stone hate the Chancellor more. As a figurehead, he still had Stone’s respect, and Stone would do anything that he’d asked out of loyalty to the Republic. But Stone was growing to despise the man.

He’d tried to talk Thire out of it. Tried to get him to take on a new duty, fill his time with things that he couldn’t be taken away from. But Thire had refused and Stone would respect his wishes.

The energy that had been in the air before had only grown over the past few days since he had talked to Riyo. He and Thire had talked about it, late at night when the trepidation was too much for them to sleep. The Senate felt different. The galaxy felt different. Even Wolffe, on Cato Neimoidia, had shaken his head when talking to them two days ago and confessed that something felt wrong even there.

Stone wasn’t sure if he wanted the war to end anymore.

---

But as with all things, wars begin and end whether one wants them to or not.

Stone’s heart leapt in his throat as the barrage of tri-droid fire hit the line of riot shields, sending some of his men flying through the air. This was wrong. This was very wrong.

“Hold rank, hold!” He shouted at the clatter of armor that rose around him. “Close the gaps and hold.”

They had never trained for something like this. Sure, they had been trained for riot shields, for city combat, and for aerial strikes. What they hadn’t trained for was using riot shields against aerial strikes. And the Coruscant Guard had never been given any form of battle-ready shielding. Even the legions of men who fought with them didn’t have their field-gear. All of that was on the Venators, and nearly the entire fleet was above the city at the moment. They had nothing.

“We’re going to be slaughtered out here!” Jek yelled above the clamor around them.

“Hold the line, Jek.” Stone growled. “We’re the only cover these men have.”

The open area around the Senate had not been built for war. There was nowhere to hide, which, while good for fending off local crime and providing little to no sniper perches, made it a hard position to hold.

“With all due respect, Commander, this is not a riot. This is not what we’re here for!”

“We’re here to serve and protect the Republic, Jek. With our lives if necessary.”

“And this much death is not necessary.”

“If we lose this battle, there will be so many more dead. Hold the line.”

Another burst of fire from the tri-fighters rained down, and Stone’s grip tightened on his shield in anticipation. It was only a matter of time. While the shields held off the fire of the battle droids before them, they were no match for the tri-fighters. They had no match, nor any means of pushing them off. Anti-aircraft weapons were not supplied to the Guard either.

Stone raised his comm. “Fox, where’s that air support?”

“We’re trying. The Separatists have the airspace; none of our ships can get in.”

Stone watched the group of tri-fighters circling back around. “Tell the admiral that if he can’t get any ships in, we and a good portion of the one eighty-seventh are going to die.”

“I know, Stone. I know.” Fox sounded tired. He had no reason not to be, for all the two of them knew, this could be the last time they spoke. Stone had to give him something.

“If we get out of this, you’re buying me and the one eighty-seventh captain drinks, okay? I’m going to hold you to that, Fox.” The fighters were lining up again. “I’m going to hold you to that drink.” He tightened his grip on the shield once more as the tri-fighters made their run. But this time, there was no fire. The tri-fighters streaked overhead and disappeared into the sky above.

“Stone? Stone do you read me?”

“They left. The fighters left.” Stone rose from the duracrete, keeping the shield before him to deflect the incoming blasterfire from the battle droids. But then that was unnecessary as the droids stopped and began to fall back. “Fox, what’s going on?”

“I’ll call you back.” And the comm clicked off.

Stone turned back to look for the purple-painted captain of the 187th, who he found making his way through the crowd towards him. “What did I miss?”

“I came here to ask you the same. Should we press after them, sir?”

Stone would have preferred the captain made the call, but this was his ground, and he was the commander. “Our objective is to guard the Senate building. This could be a feint to draw us away.”

“I agree, Commander…?”

“Stone.” He extended his hand.

The captain took it. “Law. Pleasure to serve with you, sir.”

“Likewise. This is far more exciting than it usually gets around here. I’m glad to have you and your men at my side.”

“Just glad we can help, sir.” Law’s helmet moved down as the light from Stone’s comm caught his eye.

“Excuse me, Captain Law.” Stone raised the comm back to his helmet. “What do you have for me?”

“Stone, I need eyes on the Chancellor. Thire’s comm is dead.”

Stone froze as his mind ran through scenarios. “They had the airspace.”

“The Jedi aren’t communicating with us. Please, Stone. I need someone to talk to me.”

“I’ll look.” He lowered his comm and turned back to Law. “Hold the line. If they come back, we need to be ready. I’m going to check on the Chancellor.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Law gestured for one of his men to take Stone’s shield, leaving him free to sprint up the steps behind them into the building.

It was quiet, too quiet. But the senators sheltering in their offices were not his concern. Stone took the stairs two at a time, the most his armor would allow, as he ran to the saferoom. The halls were quiet there too, but the sound of coughing and groans reached his ears as he drew closer.

The Jedi that had once guarded the Chancellor were dead. Bodies of the Red Guard, the Senate Guard, and the Coruscant Guard lay around them. Stone took note of their identities to mourn later as his eyes scanned over them until he saw the armor he was looking for, laying helmetless on the ground before a medic. Stone made his way over as fast as he could with the bodies between them. “Thire.”

“We failed, Stone. We all failed.” Thire rasped. Above the collar of his blacks, Stone could see a sharp red bruise around his neck.

“We failed you.” Stone reached down and brushed his fingers across Thire’s hair. “They should have never reached you while we still breathed.”

“One of the Jedi, she ran after them.”

“I don’t know what happened to her, Thire. I’m sorry. What did they do to you?”

“Grievous grabbed me, threw me into my men. I don’t know why he didn’t just stab me.”

“Because you’re the Chancellor’s favorite Corrie. Can’t deprive him of that.” Stone joked, gaining a pained smile from Thire for his efforts.

“I changed my mind. You can be his favorite now.”

“I’ll consider it.” Stone smiled fondly down at his brother before withdrawing his hand. “I need to comm Fox, tell him that you’re alive.”

“I’ll be here.” Thire tried for a laugh, but what came out was a hoarse cough.

Stone reached down once more to squeeze Thire’s shoulder before he rose and made his way out of the room to somewhere he wouldn’t be overheard. He didn’t know what treasonous things he might say if Fox asked.

[padawanlost]

People often talk about Anakins failings as a Jedi, so how about somethings he was better than them at. Was there ever things (non-Jedi things) that people appreciated him for? Did his loyalty and emotion ever help someone, or make them feel better? Just, some ways in which Anakin being a bad Jedi, ended up making things better.

You asked me there’s any non-jedi trait Anakin excelled at I’d argue Anakin excelled at the most Jedi trait of all: compassion. Unlike the great Jedi masters of his time, who talked a big game about compassion, Anakin actually cared about the people he met and tried his best to connect and help them. But I’m not going to say much about this, I’ll just show you the receipts.

When Anakin and Obi-wan find a captive woman who has been physically abuse, this is what happens:

He was polite:

Anakin was looking relieved. “Water would be greatly appreciated, thank you. Food, too, but I’ll wait for Obi-Wan to come back before I eat.” She crossed to the small kitchen table, put down the precious holoprojector, then nodded at the commercial-sized conservator her keepers had so kindly given her. “It’s entirely up to you. The water’s in there. Help yourself to as much as you like.” He drank three full bottles, hardly taking a breath. Noticing her surprise, he shrugged. “Sorry. My manners aren’t usually that bad. It’s just—it’s been a long, hard day.” “I can tell,” she said, disposing of the emptied bottles down her makeshift kitchen’s waste chute. “You should sit down. If you don’t mind me saying so, you look tired.” He considered his filthy clothes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to dirty the furniture.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He was supportive and unfailingly kind:

“Oh. That’s right.” There was still dried blood on her fingers, and a dull, throbbing pain in her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.”

He caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He helped her with her wounds:

“Don’t apologize,” [Anakin] said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”

“In the refresher.” She pointed. “Through there. Top shelf above the sink. But please, don’t bother. It’s nothing. I can—”

Standing, he frowned down at her. “It’s not nothing. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” Even if she’d wanted to, she didn’t think she could move. Hope had vanished, leaving despair in its wake. Leaving her empty of everything save pain. Her eyes felt scrubbed raw. “Right,” said Anakin, returning with the medkit. “Here we go. And I’ll say sorry in advance, because I’m probably going to hurt you.”

Again, that extraordinary sense of being small, a child, as he carefully wiped the blood and tears from her face, cleaned the bruised, throbbing cut on her forehead with antiseptic, and lightly pressed a steriseal over it. “You’re very good at this,” she murmured. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He was gentle:

Taking them, she looked up at him and shook her head, even though it still ached. “It’s odd. You’re nothing like I expected.”

“Why?” he said, perching on the edge of the nearby chair. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” That made him smile. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

She sat down again. “I understand. This is war. You have to look at the big picture. You can’t afford to see the little people.” Scurrying like rodents. Sacrificed for the greater good.

“That’s not true!” Anakin protested. “That’s what the big picture is. Lots and lots and lots of little people. You matter, Bant’ena. The friends you lost on Taratos Four, they matter. We’re fighting this war so no more like them will die.”

He was very sweet. Very young. Full of grand ideals and breathtaking, intuitive compassion. She looked at Master Kenobi. Now, there was a pragmatist, a man possessed of a scientist’s soul. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

When Anakin runs into a planet where the population has been enslaved:

As for the native Lanteebans, they were easy to pick out. Hunched and nervous, skittishly aware of their armed supervisors, they were the ones lasering and sweeping and riveting and hammering and sweating to upgrade the spaceport to their new masters’ specifications. They wore nothing but overalls and sandals. No protective eye goggles. No steel-capped boots. No sensor-harnesses to protect them from a fall. The indifference to their safety was breathtaking … and at the same time, unsurprising. Their fearful misery muddied the atmosphere. Beside him, Anakin muttered something. Not in Basic. His outrage was palpable, a red shimmer in the Force. Oh no. Not now.

“Anakin …”

“Look at them!” Anakin retorted, low-voiced. “They’ve been turned into slaves!”

“I know. It’s irrelevant. Focus on why we’re here.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He was generous even with his dreams:

When the war was over he’d go back to Tatooine and see. When the war was over he’d buy any child he found enslaved to Watto and find them a home where they might live and love in safety. Belonging to no one but themselves. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

When Anakin runs into a group of poor kids playing in the street:

“Just like Mos Espa’s slave quarter,” Anakin said under his breath. “Everybody knows everybody else and nothing much stays secret.” Obi-Wan nudged him with an elbow. Not now. They’d accumulated a gaggle of children, who seemingly had nothing better to do than tag along in the newcomers’ wake, giggling and whispering and kicking a soggily inflated synthafibe ball.

[…]Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.”

[…]“But—” Gathering his thoughts, disciplining himself, he watched Anakin scoop up one small excited boy, too young to kick the ball, and zoom him overhead like a fighter chasing a vulture droid. The boy nearly sickened himself with laughing. “Greti, are you saying—”

[…]“So that was merely a cynical exercise in the manipulation of a local populace?”

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.”

May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—”

Anakin’s amusement vanished. “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege]

And this is just a few examples from ONE book series. The EU (TCW and the movies) are filled with moments of Anakin caring deeply for people he barely knows (TPM, anyone?) as the Jedi stand back and chastise him for caring too much. It’s so unfair that people forget that Anakin wasn’t always cruel and selfish. They forget that for a long time Anakin was of the few Jedi who actually acted on the compassion all Jedi were supposed to possess.

Anakin Skywalker didn’t become a heroic figure during the war only because he was a good fighter. He was a good person too. A person who cared about people as individuals. And the sad part is that people forget this compassion and caring attitude wasn’t learn from the Jedi, it was learned from Shmi Skywalker. A person that also acted on her words about being kind and generous:

“Helping others isn’t always easy, is it? If people paid us to be good, the galaxy would be overflowing with kindness. But most of the time there isn’t much reward, and sometimes it even costs us dearly to do good things. Yeah. What if it costs so much that it hurts? I think we should do it anyway. Make it a habit, like eating or breathing. Once you do, you’ll hardly even notice the cost.” Star Wars Episode I Adventures: The Ghostling Children by Dave Wolverton

Anakin and Shmi’s generosity, kindness and compassion was real and truly heroic and, imo, it’s the most important trait a Jedi should possess. Ahat’s why I think Anakin had everything he needed to be a great Jedi. He had everything else too: kindness, compassion, fighting skills, etc.  the only ‘trait’ he lacked was the acceptance and support of his superiors.

[labyrinth-runner]

Queen of the Night

Song fic based off this song by Hey Violet

Tagging @karasong​ before I forget to tell her I posted this

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Slight mention of smut? Not explicit smut. I know, who AM I?

He was driving through hyperspace, and you were lost to your thoughts. You pulled his cloak tighter around yourself. Your clothes had been disgusting after this week’s battles. He had washed them in the sink on the ship and they were hanging up to dry. He had graciously offered you a spare tunic and his cloak to wear. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see how hyperspace illuminated the angles and curves of his face. He was beautiful. You turned your attention back to the viewport in front of you and sighed, thinking about the course of the week and not quite knowing how you’d gotten here. But, you realized it had to have started somewhere, and realized it was the fall.

He’d fallen down in battle earlier that week, and it had been bad enough to take him out for a day or two as the bacta patches healed him. You remembered the day that it happened.

You had been on the offensive, driving your line further up the gorge on the rocky planet the Separatists had taken. Your troops were vastly outnumbered, but you had to take that gorge. He had been hit and was down. You stopped next to him, slight panic in your eyes as you noticed the blood on the ground behind his back. 

“Listen to me,” you murmured, kneeling down next to him, taking his hand in yours. “You are not to move from this spot. We’re almost up the ridge. When I take it, I’ll come back for you. Just... please hang on, Obi-Wan.” 

His eyes were slightly unfocused on you. The sun’s rays casted you in an ethereal glow and he realized that you were an angel. Then, you squeezed his hand. 

“Master Kenobi, please acknowledge,” you pleaded.

“Alright, darling. I’ll stay here.”

You weren’t thinking, and in your relief, you kissed his hand, pressing his knuckles to your lips. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He watched you run away, falling in love even more with the powerful Jedi Knight his former sparring partner had become. In his pain, the code was gone. He just knew that if he got through this campaign, it would be because of you and for you.

You’d taken the ridge and the fort at the top of it. Your second-in-command came out to you to inform you that the fort was clear, and the second the words slipped from his mouth you were sliding down the ridge towards the prone form in the distance. He was alive, but had passed out from the pain. You pulled him up in your arms, lifting him with the force to carry him more easily up the ridge and to safety. Obi-Wan awoke to you bandaging him. A small smile formed on his lips.

“Hello there,” he croaked out.

You shook your head at him, still joking no matter the situation. “General Kenobi.”

“I see you’ve taken the ridge,” he murmured.

“Of course, no thanks to you,” you teased.

“I’m sorry, darling. You were doing so well, I figured you didn’t need me,” he smirked.

“I’ll always need you, Obi-Wan,” you sighed.

His eyes widened and you blushed.

“I-I mean...” you shook your head. “No, I meant what I said.”

Obi-Wan took your hand and squeezed. 

“I know,” you replied. You finished placing the patches. “You’ll be out of commission for a day, but that’s fine. We have a scouting party sent ahead to plan our next attack and they won’t be back for at least a day anyway. You should rest.”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled softly before heading to your own quarters so he could rest and heal.

Two days later you were on the march to a place where the scouts had mentioned civilians were held captive. When you got there, you realized you and your troops were too late. Devastation had taken over. All of them had been slaughtered. Men, women, and children. It felt as if the wind was sucked out of your lungs as you felt the loss of life wash over you. You couldn’t excuse yourself fast enough, making your way into the woods a bit. The acids in your stomach churned and you knew you were going to be sick. Landing on your knees, you wretched, feeling tears stream down your face. Twigs snapped behind you and two strong hands were smoothing your hair out of your face and holding it back while you were sick.

“They were children, Obi,” you sobbed after leaning back on your heels and wiping your mouth on your sleeve.

“No one is safe during war,” he said sadly, pulling you into his chest. 

“This needs to end,” you cried into his chest.

“I know,” he sighed, holding you tight.

You straightened yourself out and went back to camp, pushing on. Later that week, you’d vanquished the last of the Separatist strong holds on the planet. They left the generals who had won the space battle above on-world to try and find survivors while you and Obi-Wan had been ordered back to Coruscant. you’d taken a small ship. Your clothes had been disgusting. Once you’d first broke into hyperspace, you showered. When you stepped out of the refresher, he’d left you a tunic and a note saying he’d taken your clothes to wash. The ship was quiet as you stepped into the hall. 

His tunic was short, but somehow, wearing it made you feel happy. Few people had ever worn Obi-Wan’s clothes, and here you were, like some queen of his heart walking through the ship in his shirt. 

“Feel better?” he asked as you walked into the back sleeping area.

“It’s amazing what a shower can do,” you smiled.

His eyes trailed your form and a pit formed in your stomach as his gaze darkened. You’d almost lost him that week. He’d almost lost you a couple of times. Obi-Wan got up from the bed he was sitting on and reached out for you. He softly pulled you against him, cupping your face. You thought back to when you were both younger and your Master had told you to stay away from Kenobi when he noticed your growing feelings for the charming Padawan. Although, with the missions he and Qui-Gon had been sent on, staying away hadn’t been too hard. Yet, whenever he was back at the temple at the same time you were, it had been magnetic. You two had been inseparable. The feelings never went away. It could be years between seeing each other and they’d all come bubbling up to the surface, like right now.

You leaned into his touch and sighed his name, “Obi-Wan.”

Your eyes searched his, feeling the hesitation to go further. You knew the consequences of going further, of having someone find out if you went further. But, you didn’t care. You loved being a Jedi, but you loved Obi-Wan Kenobi more. Being with him was like a spark was ignited within you. The witty banter gave you life. Being near him just felt like you were home. Your Master had warned you away, but you never could turn your back to him. Not even now in the midst of a war where holding onto someone too tightly could be detrimental to more than just you.

He leaned forward and kissed you softly. You lost yourself in him, and he in you. Clothes were shed and kisses given liberally as the two of you explored each other. It wasn’t rushed. It was loving and long overdue. His hips rolled into yours as the two of you reached for the stars in a galaxy of your own making. He cried your name like a prayer as the darkness behind your closed eyes grew bright like a supernova in the vast vacuum of space. He held you close against his chest afterwards. Gently, he took your hand and started to kiss your fingertips. Master Kenobi was dangerous, indeed. Your Master had been right. 

You were pulled from your thoughts by a hand on your thigh. Turning your head to look at him, you smiled. You could be kicked out of the Order tomorrow. You could be stripped of all of your titles and belongings, but none of that mattered, because you loved Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he loved you. He made you feel alive, and the two of you knew what you were risking by being together. Sitting here in his tunic, pulling out of hyperspace into the darkness of space made you feel like a Queen of the Night, and nothing was worth turning your back on him or his love. 

[powerfulharmony]

Powerful Harmony-Part 7

Everyone then stood silent in the room. Ahsoka: “So, it looks like we're stuck with you guys, huh?” Katara: “Yes, it appears that way.” Ahsoka: “By the way, we never had the chance to introduce each other, if you’re going to stay here, we should at least know each of your names.” Katara: “Fair enough. I’m Katara, this Aang, Zuko, Toph, Suki and my brother, Sokka.” Sokka: “Hey.” Aang: “Hi.” Suki: “Hello there.” Toph: “Whazzup?” Zuko: “Hello.” Ahsoka: “I’m Ahsoka Tano, this is my master, Anakin Skywalker and this is Master Obi-wan Kenobi.”

Padme slowly approached Katara. Padme: “And I’m Senator Padme Amidala. Nice to meet you.”

She shook Katara’s hand. Padme: “So, you guys are from another world, huh? I’d love to hear all about it.” Obi-wan: “As do I, you have some remarkable abilities that I’ve never even seen before. How is it you were able to do...what you just did?” Katara: “Well, it really is a lot easier if you guys can understand our culture. For starters, our world is split into 4 nations: the Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation and the Air Nomads. Each nation consists of a unique group of individuals with the ability to control and manipulate each of the 4 elements. They are known as benders, the type of bender they are depends on what element they can wield. You can obviously tell what type of benders me and my friends are.” Anakin: “So, what you’re telling us is all that stuff you guys did, it’s actually typical where you come from.” Katara: “Yes.”

Obi-wan indeed seemed intrigued. Obi-wan: “Fascinating.” Ahsoka: “We actually have people here with unique abilities of their own.” Katara: “I kind of figured, you guys call yourselves Jedi, right?” Ahsoka: “That’s right, myself, Master Skywalker and Master Kenobi are among a few of them. We’re capable of this amazing ability to control this mystical energy known as the Force.” Sokka: “The Force? You mean like what you guys did with all those Heartless?” Ahsoka: “Yes, that. Jedi are chosen when younglings possess abilities like that. They are then taken from their homes by a Jedi master then trained to hone that ability and put it to good use. We’re guardians and protectors our world and it’s our job to maintain balance within it.” Aang: “Hey! These people sound like me!” Katara: “Right, Aang. You see, there is also 1 person born with the ability to control and manipulate all 4 elements. He is known as the Avatar, he is the most powerful bender to ever exist and it’s his job to maintain balance within our world.” Ahsoka: “Sounds neat.” Anakin: “So, let me see if I got this right: just because someone has the ability to control all 4 elements, or bend them, as you call it, that automatically makes him the protector of your world?” Obi-wan: “I take it that doesn’t happen often whenever someone like that comes around, so I’m guessing this person is very special.” Katara: “He’s more than just that; the Avatar is actually the spirit of our world manifested in the form of a human being. He's also known as the bridge between our world and the spirit world and when the Avatar dies, he is then reincarnated into the next nation in the Avatar Cycle. This time, the Avatar is born as an Air Nomad.” Aang: “The last Avatar before me was a Firebender named Roku and before him was a female Earthbender named Kyoshi.” Suki: “I know of her all too well.” Ahsoka: “So, this Avatar Cycle goes in a complete circle, right?”

Katara and Aang nodded. Ahsoka: “Then that means that the next Avatar after Aang will be born in the Water Tribe.” Katara: “Exactly!” Ahsoka: “Now I seem to be getting the hang of this!” Padme: “Sounds as though we could use the Avatar’s help now.”

Padme walked up to a window and looked out from it for a bit. Katara and the rest stared at her, they seemed a little concerned. She then turned around and faced them again. Padme: “We are currently at war here. Unlike your world, ours is split by 2 completely different sides: there’s the Republic, which is what we’re part of. And then there are the Separatists, who are our enemies.” Obi-wan: “The Jedi are taking part in this war and we are doing everything we can to put a stop to it, but it’s…not enough.” Padme: “I, of course, am doing whatever I can to try and end this through diplomacy, but it’s difficult because not many people are interested in negotiations and prefer to fight in this war head on. And so, the war keeps pushing on and I’m not sure if there is any end in sight.”

Katara paused for a minute. Katara: “That’s too bad. There was a terrible war that went on back at home that we were part of.” Zuko: “More than a century ago, my great grandfather, Firelord Sozin, unleashed a devastating assault on the other nations and planned to take everything in name of the Fire Nation. It was his way of sharing his greatness with the world.” Ahsoka: “So, the Fire Nation were like the Separatists of your world.” Zuko: “Yes, we have caused a great deal of destruction to the world, but what we were doing to everyone was far worse.” Aang: “My entire people were slaughtered. I’m the only one of my kind left.”

Katara turned away from the Jedi and faced her friends. Katara: “Firebenders raided my tribe in the South Pole and stole all of our Waterbenders.”

She held her head down and touched her necklace. Katara: “Sokka and I lost our mother during one of those raids.”

Anakin became startled. Padme: “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Sokka: “The war was so immensely bad that it pretty much went from the Fire Nation versus the other nations, to the Fire Nation versus the Earth Kingdom and might I add that the Earth Kingdom was losing badly?” Toph:“Yeah, we weren’t doing so well, at all.” Sokka: “My dad was fed up with sitting around and doing nothing, so he and the men from our tribe decided to leave and help the Earth Kingdom fight in the war.” Ahsoka: “How long did this war of yours last?” Katara: “100 years.” Padme:“100 year!?! I can’t imagine being at war that long!!” Obi-wan: “Sounds as though you kids had it rough.”

The benders stood silent for a while. Anakin: “So, where was the great and mighty Avatar when all of this was happening?” Aang: “I was frozen in an iceberg.” Ahsoka: “Really? For how long?” Aang: “100 years.” Obi-wan: “Hm…isn’t that exactly how long your war lasted?”

Aang held his head down sulking. Ahsoka: “Hold on! That means…your more than 100 years old!?!” Aang: “Yes…” Ahsoka: “I…don’t believe it! You’re…still so young.” Obi-wan: “So, you were in a state of cryo-stasis.” Katara: “Yes, Captain Terris and the other captains told us that, too.” Anakin: “It also means that this terrible war of your world hardly began before then.” Ahsoka: “I don’t get it, how could all of this have happened?” Aang: “It started when the monks of my temple told me that I was the Avatar. It is usually a tradition for the Avatar’s identity to be revealed after his 16th birthday. The monks told me when I was only 12.” Obi-wan: “So, they revealed your identity much earlier than traditionally. Why?” Aang: “It was because they needed me prepared for the upcoming war with the Fire Nation.” Anakin: “So, they were in desperate need of the Avatar’s help.” Aang: “Yes, but…everything around me began to change. Everyone stopped seeing me as a normal kid, so I was being treated differently by everyone, well…everyone except my mentor and long time friend, Monk Gyasto. He was the only one who still made me felt like…me, that was…until…the monks decided to separate us.” Padme: “What? That’s terrible!” Ahsoka: “No, I can’t believe it!” Aang: “They were going to take away everything that I ever cared about! I was stuck in a corner and there was nowhere else for me to turn!” Ahsoka: “So, what did you do?” Aang: “The only thing I could do…I ran away from home. I flew off on Appa.” Ahsoka: “Appa?” Aang:“My pet flying bison. All Air Nomads have one. It’s how we get around.” Anakin: “Heh! Right, flying Bison. I find that hard to believe.”

Aang pulled out his Keyblade, with 1 gleam of the weapon, Appa suddenly appeared from outside the window. He flew towards them, letting out a big roar as he flew upward and disappeared. Ahsoka: “Whoa! He’s huge!” Obi-wan: “I take it that’s Appa.”

Aang nodded. Anakin: “OK, I’m convinced. So, how did you end up getting frozen in an iceberg?” Aang: “That day, Appa and I got caught in a storm as we flew above a large ocean. We fell into the water, barely hanging on, then I formed this huge sphere around us and…we were frozen inside of it…together.” Katara: “100 years later, Sokka and I found him and Appa frozen inside that iceberg. I didn’t even know that he was the Avatar at the time.” Sokka: “After that, we began to leave our cozy little home in the South Pole and we traveled the world together.” Aang: “Katara and Sokka are really good friends. I don’t even know where I would be without them.” Anakin: “Probably still frozen in that iceberg…with your…uh…” Ahsoka: “Flying bison, master.” Anakin: “Uh…right.” Obi-wan: “Still, I find that story incredible and very hard to believe.”

Aang started to sulk again. Ahsoka: “But then you suffered a great loss when you found out that Monk Gyasto and the other Airbenders were slaughtered.”

He held his head down. Ahsoka and Padme looked at each other. Padme then walked up to Aang and embraced him closely. Padme: “There, there, Aang. It’s OK, I know how it looks, but it’s not your fault. You’re not the one to blame for that war escalating as long as it did.” Obi-wan: “I’ll have to agree with the senator on this. I could understand if it was for good intentions, but your world could have waited only several years for the war to end if the monks hadn’t acted too quickly.” Anakin: “Yeah, but instead, everyone in it had to wait 100 years! It really bothers me how bad everything turned out!” Padme: “I completely agree. This is all just…so absurd.” Aang: “I know, but that’s how it happened and this is all that I’m stuck with.”

Anakin continued looking at Aang and Padme. He then turned towards Katara who was also still sulking.

[skyvaikers]

bounty [ commander wolffe ]

summary: wolffe thinks he’s the toughest one out there, but when he finally meets his match he’s not sure what to do.

warnings: none

requested by: @sugar-snap-apple

———

being a bounty hunter meant a lot of things. it meant always moving, but it also meant respect. if you were a good enough bounty hunter, you had respect. luckily for y/n l/n, she was probably one of the best bounty hunters out there, and she was proud of that.

as a bounty hunter, she didn’t affiliate herself with either side. she had done jobs for both of them, the ones infiltrating the republic proving to be harder.

she didn’t have much respect towards the clone officers though and it surprised her she hadn’t been jailed yet. she had an attitude, a bad one at that. she mouthed off to commander fox one time, and that was the closest she ever got to be thrown in the brig.

y/n was called on a mission to guard a weapon for the separatists. she knew what would be coming from the republic; they’d hit her with everything they had. she didn’t like jobs for the separatists, but they paid pretty well. she was currently standing in front of this weapon, which was out in the open. it was like the separatists wanted her to get slaughtered by the republic.

meanwhile, the wolfpack squad was stationed on top of a hill, looking down at the separatist base. one of the troopers placed binoculars to his eyes and saw the lowly bounty hunter.

“eh, there’s only one bounty hunter stationed there. we could take her out from here,” he reported to his commander who was standing behind him. the trooper was right, they could take her out from where they were.

“i don’t know, the separatists could be luring us into a trap.” the commander spoke up. he knew that just taking her out would raise alarm; she couldn’t be the only one guarding that weapon. he scanned the area around her, there is no sign of any separatist forces; he didn’t like the look of that.

“move in with stealth; we don’t want to raise too much alarm on their end.” wolffe told his men, who all responded with ‘yes sir.’

———

y/n was getting quite bored. she was pacing in front of this weapon, with two pistols on her hips she felt she was ready to take on the clones. she didn’t want to kill them, she’d only do so if it were her only choice. besides, if she killed one of them, the rest of their battalion would come after her and she was on her own.

it was too quiet out there for her own liking, but she had a feeling the republic clone troopers were somewhere near her. they weren’t stupid; they knew how to get around a bounty hunter, especially since they had heard of her or maybe even seen her. that also depends on which battalion has come to take the weapon, or more accurately, destroy it.

she perked up when she heard rustling in the trees behind her. she stopped her pacing and went around the side of the building, a hand hovering over a pistol. she didn’t like it when things came from behind her, but she was ready this time. a couple of clones emerged from the trees, their armor white with grey accents. she noticed wolves painted on some of their armor, so this was some wolf squad.

“i hope you realize i’m not going to be ‘standing down.’” she told the troopers, their — assumingly — commander stepping forwards. he didn’t say anything, but he had his hands on his own twin pistols. she raised an eyebrow at him as his battalion started to make their way forwards. she backed up, but only because she didn’t like where she was.

“where ya goin’, bounty hunter?” one snickered, raising his blaster at her. she rolled her eyes; sometimes they weren’t so smart. once she got the battalion in front of the building and in front of her, she stopped. two unlucky troopers decided to step forwards, cuffs in their hands.

“oh no you don’t,” she muttered to herself as she swiftly kicked out their legs from underneath them. she made sure to kick their blasters away, and then that’s when the whole battalion started to fight back.

fighting a clone battalion was not something she wanted to do every day. they were men, strong and built men who could easily take her down. as their blaster fire attempted to graze her skin, she gracefully moved through the battalion. a roundhouse kick there, a knee to the private area here. in essence, she had managed to have the whole battalion groaning on the ground, holding various parts she had injured. all that was left was the commander, who stood in awe of what he just witnessed.

“and that’s why they put you by yourself.” he concluded, rolling his eyes underneath his helmet. where was general plo when he needed him?

“guess so.” and in one final attempt to arrest the bounty hunter, wolffe went hand-to-hand with y/n. it didn’t end well, per se. he was better and more coordinated than his men, kicking her feet out from under her. she smirked. he’d noticed. she stood back up and kicked him three different spots up his torso and then finished with a roundhouse kick to the face. he groaned as he laid there a moment, regaining his composure.

“look, i can’t let you destroy this weapon because it’s my job. you know that. but i’ll tell you this: they don’t plan on moving it off of this planet anytime soon, and if they do, it’s going to be to one of the nearby systems. carrying it for long distances would spark more of the republic’s interest and they don’t want that.” she told the commander. she didn’t know why she was telling him this, but she felt...felt as she could trust him.

“why did you tell me that?” he asked her, standing up from the ground. wolffe was grateful for the information, but still.

“dunno, I’d rather have men take over than droids; I hate those stupid things,” she told him as she stood back. his men were standing up, rubbing the backs of their necks or limping from sprained ankles.

“I hate to say it, but I agree.” wolffe nodded to her. he was pissed she took down his entire battalion but that was the thing; she took down his entire battalion.

“well, i guess i’ll see ya around, commander,” she told him. he shook his head and led his men away from the site. he knew she’d be getting paid well for her performance, but as he gave a look back, he still felt the awe from how easily she took down those men.

“you alright, commander?” a trooper asked.

“yeah, let’s go tell the generals the news.”

———

sorry this took me so long! i hope this is what you wanted, not sure though :\. but, i’m always open for requests or to talk! hope you enjoy :)

[gemmaswriting]

Oneshots

To Build a home

“They hadn't done badly for a former Queen, assumed dead and abandoned on a sandy, near lawless, Outer-Rim planet and the son of a slave with secret Force-magic powers neither knew how to truly explain. Padme thought that from time to time.” 

Liberabit vos

“Senator Padme Amidala wakes up to find herself abducted by the Separatist's secretive new Sith Lord, Darth Vader, on the orders of Count Dooku. With the older Sith commanding that she reveal Republic military secrets to save her family from slaughter, will she give in and doom her people to Separatist victory and rule - or is there more to Darth Vader than she could have imagined?”

Of Slytherin and Hufflepuffs (NSFW)

“Hogwarts AU! Anakin wondered, just for a second, what Kit would say if he knew that he had been with Padme since halfway through their fourth year? He'd probably ask what kind of love spell Anakin was using...” 

aeternum (NSFW)

“The newly married Skywalkers spend an afternoon in bed and Anakin reflects, broods and learns there's more than one way to please his wife.”

What to expect when you want to be expecting (NSFW)

"Padme…" Anakin's hot breath tickled against her ear, "Angel, I want a baby." If only they'd known how difficult that would be...”

I wish I could rewrite the stars

“Suddenly, forever felt like something that could be real. They could make it real, the two of them together and out of nowhere, tears stung at Anakin's eyes. It just meant so much. Padme loving him too was the stuff of his dreams; something he'd only just dared to believe was possible. But she did. (Modern AU!)”

Needed this NSFW

"Well, how does an attentive wife usually make her husband feel better?"

Screaming in the Dark I Howl When We’re Apart (NSFW)

"She'd worked so hard perfecting the routine, desperate to please him; to shock him. Padme would be willing to bet every credit she owned that he'd never have imagined she'd do something like this. Force, she'd had no idea she was capable of such a thing… "

Something Very Special 

What if Padme's funeral dress had a different meaning behind it? What if she'd had it made for something else entirely? The six times the dress was laid eyes on throughout it's existence before it's first and final use.

It’s Okay to be Afraid

“Palpatine wasn't the only thing frightening Padme, despite what she tells Anakin time and time again, she does fear dying in childbirth. AU!”

In the Eye of the Storm 

“There is an old Naboo legend her grandmother told her when she was just a girl. The Gods once decided whether pairs of lovers were destined for happiness or tragedy on the day of their union. She'd always wondered what judgement the Gods would pass on her own union one day…”

Birthday

Anakin may have brought balance to the Force, but it is his children, who bring balance to him. Part of the Happy family AU series (you don't have to read the first one really! But you'll understand more if you do). Shameless Skywalker family fluff!

Thrill (NSFW)

“This time, he is sure Bail sees him shudder. He'd have to be blind not to. Swallowing thickly, Anakin tries to pull at least some part of his mind free from the fog of lust clouding it, the task is so much more difficult than he anticipated. All he can think of is Padme, her hand and her glorious, sinful mouth.”

Saints Can’t Help Me Now

“In a world where there are no Jedi and no Sith, there are only angels and demons. She cannot help but wonder, even a little… If he was good once, does it mean his soul can be saved?”

Bend (NSFW)

“Because, every now and again, even the Chosen One will bend for his wife.”

Reunion

“Revenge of the Sith AU! What if the Chancellor wasn't abducted for a year after Anakin and Obi-Wan are sent off to the Outer Rim Sieges? What if Anakin didn't come back in time to learn of Padme's pregnancy?”

 Countdown

“Just over twenty three hours… That's what the device claims is the time she must wait before setting eyes on her soulmate. In the grand scheme of things, the time is nothing, a mere blink of an eye before her life theoretically changes forever.”

 Welcome Home

"Aha!" Ahsoka laughs, still utterly unaware of their presence. "No Skywalker will has ever been able to defeat me! I am-" Finally her eyes lift to see them just as Padme's arms cross over her chest. Immediate panic lights up the girl's face at the sight of them standing here. "… In big trouble…" She mutters, lowering her blade.”

 Angelus Mortis

“If her husband has truly been consumed by the dark side as Obi-Wan says, then she will end this once and for all, before the evil that has destroyed Anakin can do further damage to the Galaxy.”

Bliss

“Since their wedding she's sworn to learn his mother tongue, Huttese, so he can speak to her in the language he used most often as a child and she can understand him as he does so.”

Stay

“He surprises her though, there are no violent outbursts or declarations of hate for whatever scum did this or even promises of vengeance. It's heartbreakingly the opposite, instead of all that, he shatters in her arms. (Set during 4x09 of The Clone Wars!)”

Scoundrel 

"By the Force… What if they've run off to get married?" Anakin's eyes widen in his panic, and Padme suddenly feels far older than she truly is for a moment. How is she supposed to defuse this? "I swear if that scoundrel elopes with my daughter he'll meet the wrong side of my lightsaber-" Slumping back in her seat, she hears Luke's terrible attempt to keep his laughter at bay.”

Siblings

“Margaery, unlike her siblings has no connection to the almighty Force, but she makes up for it in other ways. She doesn't need any of those mind tricks to play people to her tunes… What fun would it be if she only had to extend a hand and say exactly what she wanted them to do? That's much too easy. She prefers a challenge. Part of the Happy Family AU series!”

Think of Me and Burn

“Clad in only one of her silken nightgowns, the evidence of the perfection she carries within her inner cradle is obvious for his eyes to look upon and admire. How is it that he gave her his passion and she gives him the most wonderful gift in return? It hardly seems fair, but he's overjoyed none the less. (Anakin's thoughts/missing moments in Revenge of the Sith!)” 

Sisters and Secrets

“Despite the sombre nature of their conversation she can only giggle and bring her cooling tea up, to her lips to sip. It's well known she and Anakin share a very… Healthy intimate life together. They make no secret of it, so much so that Luke and Leia have taken to groaning and throwing things when they catch them kissing. It is their jobs as parents to embarrass them. (AU)” 

If you could only see the beast you made of me

“Throughout his life, throughout this war, Anakin Skywalker had done terrible things, bent the rules, broken them, stolen, sped, damaged, wounded, threatened, mind-tricked and even killed. He'd killed so many… But in this moment, now, none of that compared to… There was something far worse than all of those sins and he was mere moments away from committing it, his worst atrocity.” 

Take a walk on the wild side

"Your friends bought you a private dance." She stepped toward the small bar area, he looked like he needed a drink. "An hour-long set, actually." She'd never done an hour with anyone before. This was a new experience for her just like him. Maybe she should have a drink too?”

Just carry me home tonight (NSFW)

“I – I didn't mean to, it's only that… Well, the Force, it lets me feel… What you feel, and I know this wasn't exactly what you imagined for your wedding night, so I…" His flesh hand rose to scratch his neck awkwardly, "I suppose I just wanted to make this special for you…" Wedding night smut!” 

Once Upon a Time

“Now, she couldn't be like Anakin and swear that being a spouse and parent were all that mattered to her, because her other titles – especially the professional ones, also drove her. But to be a wife to Anakin, to be the mother of her children, it felt as natural as breathing, the progression of her life as it was meant to be. It was as if a missing piece of her had been returned.”

Take my hand take my whole life too

“Textfic. Dorme, Sabe and Obi-wan are sick to death of Anakin and Padme hiding their feelings for each other. It's time to meddle a little...”

dulce invidia 

“Senator," Anakin began, "This… This is truly not what it looks like…" He winced, and Reeva's gaze snapped back to him once more. Wasn't it? Well, she supposed not… But it could have been! It might have been given just a little more time! But Anakin wasn't looking at Reeva now. His gaze focused only on the Senator whose own eyes seemed to scream of murder when settled on her.”

Hypnotic takin’ over me (NSFW)

“By the Force… Just how many times had he seen her like this in his dreams? How many times had he run his fingers over her skin? Filled his hands with her perfect backside? Yet, when he was, by some mercy or a cruel joke, granted true sight of her, he was oblivious."

Take my hand and fight for me

“This was supposed to be a happy day, a day a father-to-be anticipated from the moment he found about the child. But not Anakin. Since Padme told him about the baby, the prospect of this day brought only dread and sickening worry that tore his exhausted mind apart. Part of him, however terrible it was, wished that this day would never come.” 

[wr1t3-my-wr0ngs]

Good Soldiers - chapter 4/4

Remembering Yesterday’s Tomorrow (In the Here and Now): Part 4 COMPLETED

Rex isn't happy with resorting to Plan B, however, he's not surprised that Plan A didn't work out. Disappointed, but he knew that it was a long shot getting a Jedi to intervene.

At least Plan B has the benefit of working before, but it will still be a bloodbath. Not even the best of troops can hope to match an armed and trained force user, and it's not vanity when he says that his men are the best.

He felt like a cheat when he had described the plan earlier.

"We lead him to the nearest Vixus."

"You want us to go near one of those things on purpose?"

Rex couldn't blame the men for their incredulity, not after one of the creatures had nearly eaten almost every person in the room only hours before. He's not exactly thrilled at going near the sarlac-like thing either. But they aren't fast enough to take Krell in a fair fight, not with his four lightsabers and absolute willingness to maim anyone in his path. (Too many limbs, too much speed, too little empathy.)

Every word from his lips felt like a lie, a stolen idea that he parroted as his own. In a way, they were. It had been Tup who had thought of using the Vixus to capture Krell, a stroke of genius that had ended a horrific fight, and it grates that Rex can’t give the trooper the recognition he deserves.

"What the Captains trying to say, " Fives chimed in after watching Rex flounder for a moment. "Is that we need this to be on our terms. He's not going to come quietly if he is a traitor."

Rex nodded, both in thanks and in confirmation.

"If you think you have a shot, take it. The faster the fight is over, the better it will be for everyone, but we need to aim to arrest him if possible."

"And if we can't?"

"Have your recorders on and let the bastard incriminate himself."

In true GAR fashion, the plan had spread like wildfire, and soon enough, every last soldier knew their task.

Rex hardly needs to issue the orders, but he does anyway, following the formalities because he knows that, despite what General Skywalker may sometimes claim, appearances and regulations do count.

The ride up the tower is quiet, and from the corner of his eye, Rex can see a few of the younger troops nervously adjust the grip on their blasters. He has to fight the urge to fidget or even reach up and place a hand over his ring, doing his best to project confidence for both the men and himself.

Krell is waiting for them, facing the window, one set of hands clasped behind his back.

"CT-7567, explain yourself."

Rex readies his blasters, switching off the safeties and aims at the Besalisk.

"Pong Krell, you are under arrest for treason against the Grand Army of the Republic and the Galactic State which it serves. Do you comply peacefully?"

Krell turns, malice written in his face and eyes.

"You know, I'm surprised you were able to figure it out for a clone. Tell me, when did you first suspect?"

Rex ignores the question, refusing to be goaded by the man before him any more than he already has.

"Do you comply?" He puts more force into his words than before, using a tone of voice he would never dare to use on a commanding officer.

Krell looks around, almost lazily, and takes in the various troopers - all with blasters pointed his direction – and smiles in a way that is anything but friendly.

"You think you can stop me, Captain? I have trained for more years then you have been alive, and I will not be stopped me some creature bread in a tube."

Without further preamble, Krell pushes out with the Force, sending every trooper slamming into the walls. Those unfortunate enough to have stayed on their feet during the assault are quickly cut down by the blue-green pair of saber staffs, and Rex watches from his place on the ground as the fallen Jedi jumps out the window.

He scrambles to his feet and rushes out the door, brushing past medics on their way in to try and stabilize those they can. He does not envy them their job, one which he knows will only get harder the longer Krell goes unattended to.

The sound of boots fills the night air as soldiers pour from the base and onto the hard pavement of the airfield. Krell is nowhere in sight, but the evidence of his departure lies scattered on the ground.

Passing the bodies that litter the ground outside the airbase doors, Rex has to swallow past the rising bile as he takes in his brothers: some still breathing, others lifeless. He charges on more determined than before, no time to pause the pursuit and tell the living from the dead before crashing into the underbrush.

The forest is quiet and incredibly dark, the helmets night vision thrown off by the red glow of the bioluminescent trees.

"Does anyone have a visual?"

"Negative Captain, he's —"

The sound of a lightsaber crackles through the comms, the distinctive hiss as it cauterizes and cuts, distorted and warped by the tiny speakers.

"You should have kept quiet, Captain."

The back of Rex's neck tingles as Krells' voice echoes around the landscape, seeming to come from all directions, shifting on a nonexistent wind.

"You've led them to slaughter in a fool's errand. I have seen the future Captain, your life, and that of every clone is expendable. You and your so-called brothers: specialized rats bread in a lab for just one reason. The Jedi will fall, and in its place, a new order will rise and rule. Yet you rebel in a misguided notion of liberty, and now your men will pay the price."

Displayed on his hud, Rex can see the blinking light of the recorder, and even though he hopes it won't come to it, they need a back up should Dogma fail to reach General Kenobi. He keeps Krell talking, shouting into the eerie red nothingness, turning all directions in the hopes of catching sight of the six-limbed man.

"You're a Separatist?"

Krell's laugh is merciless.

"Not hardly, I serve none but myself. But soon, I shall reap the rewards, and my new master will grant me a seat of power in the Empire that shall arise."

A twig snaps from somewhere above their heads, and it's all the warning Rex and his men get before Krell is in their midst, dual staffs slashing without remorse, skillfully dodging every shot aimed his way. Rex is too busy firing his blasters, shouting for his men not to get too close, to stay out of lightsaber range, to notice at first. Eventually, he hears the shout of his name, and the Captain spots one of the men signaling to something on the ground roughly fifty yards away. Despite his dread and increasing panic, he grins to himself, and relays the information into the comms, alerting all units to draw Krell his way.

Navigating the vine limbs of the Vixus proves challenging, especially with the Besalisk hot on his tail. He should have known that things were going too smoothly, should have expected that something would go wrong (and it makes him sick to his stomach to think, however briefly, that the death of so many of his brothers is according to plan). When it happens, it stirs up disappointed resignation and panic in equal measure. Time seems to slow as his foot catches on something, and he watches the rapidly approaching ground in horror, twisting at the last second to avoid landing face first atop his blasters.

His blunder is all it takes for Krell to be on him, lightsabers baring down with unnatural swiftness. With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Rex freezes, and he can feel the heat of the green blade through his neck gasket as it flies toward its target. He should move, or fire a shot -anything- instead, his thoughts drift to Ahsoka.

Her skin set aglow by the light of a dying fire beneath a star-studded sky; dirt-covered and sweaty, kneeling next to him as they sew seeds on Lothal; graceful in battle, twisting through the air, elegant and lethal and incredibly kind.

All at once, the heat from the blade disappears and time reasserts itself, leaving the Captain momentarily disoriented until he can process the slashing of sabers far overhead as Krell battles against the vine wrapped around his waist. There is no time to berate himself for either his blunder or for freezing up, and he shoots to his feet, blasters drawn and firing.

Around him, his men are doing the same, some aiming at Krell while others aim for the flailing arms of the Vixus as it attempts to grab anything within reach. Undercutting the din of battle, Rex can make out the tell-tail click of blasters being switched from stun to kill, can feel the increase of energy electrify the air like an oncoming storm. A shot fires and between one heartbeat and the next, Krell is falling, having managed to sever a limb and free himself.

He hits the ground hard, and the shooting ceases, soldiers approaching with a careful tread, ready for the Besalisk to spring up. Instead, Krell lets out a ragged cough into the dirt, and Rex cautiously approaches, DeeCees at the ready, and carefully rolls the fallen Jedi onto his back. Blood gurgles from Krell's chest where a blaster bolt made its home in a lung, whether intentionally placed or a mistake is unclear and, frankly, Rex doesn’t care.

Krell has moments left, and the Captain is seized with the need to make eye contact with the force user one last time. Slowly, he kneels and pulls off his bucket, taking a moment to make sure he has the Besalisks attention.

"I've lived your future, " he whispers, quiet enough that the various recorders can't pick it up. "It doesn't last."

It is satisfying to watch Krell's face fall as he searches the force, feels the veracity of Rex's statement— Realizes that for all his gifts and abilities, a clone knows more than him. Satisfying to know that its the last thought he will ever have.

Words form on the force users' lips, but all that comes out is a cough followed by a rattling breath and then - nothing.

Everyone is quiet for a moment, as the enormity of what just happened registers with the gathered troops. Some take off their helmets, most simply stare in shock. It doesn’t last long; the area is still a live war zone, and all too soon, the sound of steadily approaching enemy bombardment draws everyone from their stupor.

Rex pulls on his helmet and orders everyone back to base. It takes some time, now that they aren’t running after the Besalisk - longer than it usually would have, considering they are hauling Krell’s corpse and the numerous wounded with them. Some of the men had wanted to leave him where he lay, claim that it had been lost in the darkness and confusion of the planet. But the Captain hadn’t wanted to risk being ordered to send anyone out on a retrieval mission. Didn’t want to risk losing more men over the fallen Jedi.

No one speaks as they trudge through the dark landscape, and in the pressing silence, one thought relentlessly hammers away inside the Captains mind:

What now?

His instincts still tell him that this isn't a dream, and Rex is still inclined to trust them. But with his mind no longer occupied with the survival of his men and himself, the doubts that had reared their head when he had woken have returned. Is this death? If so, what does it mean for him now that Umbara is over? Or if it's a dream? Or, even more daunting, what if it's not? What if, by some insane occurrence, its exactly what he thinks it is?

He’s no closer to an answer by the time they reach the base, and in his meditative state, he almost misses the arrival of General Kenobi’s transport.

“Captain!”

Rex has to work to keep his face impassive, even as he salutes (its a different kind of pain seeing Kenobi again then it was from seeing his brothers. Less piercing, more bittersweet, aching like a day-old bruise that you can’t help touching, just to make sure it's still there).

“General,”

“I would ask what’s so urgent that you would send a trooper to collect me in the middle of a delicate campaign, but your man was very thorough in his explanation.”

Behind the Jedi, Rex can make out Dogma - a little cut up and bloodied but in one piece - side-eyeing the trooper next to him. Rex’s heart stops for a moment as he takes in the distinctive orange paint of his batchmate. He should have known that where General Kenobi goes, Cody would follow, but somehow it hadn’t clicked. (Cody shifts and Dogma nervously straightens. There’s a story there, and Rex resolves to get it later —if there is a later).

If Obi-Wan notices the Captain's momentary discomfort, he doesn't say anything.

“We had hoped that you might have been able to assist us in dealing with Krell.”

“I see.” The Jedi pauses for a moment, taking the time to really look at Rex. His next words are terribly kind, and the clone's heart swells with affection for the man.

“How are your men, Captain?”

He thinks of Dogma, the betrayal and the pain that he knows the rookie must still be dealing with, thinks of his own distress at watching Krell cut down brother after brother and chooses his words carefully, voice low.

“We lost a fair number in the fight, and I think the men are more shaken they would like to admit.”

Obi-wan looks sad at the confession but nods understandingly.

“And Krell?”

“Dead, Sir.”

Someone comes up beside him; he's not sure who, but judging by the sound of the footfalls, he thinks its either Jesse or Fives. Looking confirms that its the former.

“Report?”

“All men accounted for, Sir. Wounded are being taken care of now.”

Rex nods.

“Get some rest; you've all earned it.”

Kenobi waits for Jesse to leave before he picks up the conversation.

“Who fired the shot?”

Truthfully, he doesn’t know. In the chaos and confusion, the blaster fire had blurred together. But it was his mission, his orders that the men followed, his responsibility. His fault.

“I did, sir.”

Obi-Wan sighs, looking pained, and Rex understands. A General is dead, an act that cannot go unseen to, regardless of if the general was corrupt or not —there must be a hearing.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I'm afraid I have to place you under arrest."

Rex nods solemnly.

Appearances and Regulations, his mind supplies, and as much as he doesn't like it, he would rather it be him who takes the brunt of a Court Marshal than any of his brothers. Something he had taken into account when he had first come up with his plan.

Kenobi nods to one of his men, who steps forward with a pair of cuffs.

"Those won't be necessary, will they Captain?"

Mild amusement flickers through Rex at Obi-Wans tone, and he flashes a brief smirk at the General, who, despite the regret etched on his face, has an answering twinkle of humor in his eyes.

"No, Sir."

The trooper shrugs and puts away the restraining devices then reaches out and relieves the Captain of his DeeCees's, before leading him by the elbow toward the tower and the brig.

Behind him, the General calls out.

“We’ll get you out of this, Rex.”

He doesn't need to ask who “we” is.

----

Despite the exhaustion that has settled in his bones, Rex spends his first hour in the brig with his head in his hands, sedately running them over his buzzed hair. Various people stop by, sometimes offering updates, sometimes to provide words of support. They don’t stay for long, recognizing the fatigue, and leave the clone to himself. As a result, he doesn’t look up right away when he hears a set of boots approaching. What does make him look is the sound of his cell door opening, and he is just in time to see Fives, dressed in his blacks and some of his armor, walk-in before shutting the door.

"Hey, " the goateed man greets, walking over to the bunk and sliding down the cell wall, sitting on the ground.

"Hey." Rex returns.

They sit quietly for a few moments, both worn and weary from the horrors of the past 24 hours, the sound of their breathing echoing slightly off the walls.

"I didn't think anyone was allowed inside the cell."

Fives huffs in what could be amusement.

"I don't think anyone is taking your confinement too seriously after what Krell put us through. Pretty sure they would let you out for a walk as long as you have supervision."

They both laugh without much heart before lapsing back into a silence that seems to be building a soft sort of anticipation — a tension, not unpleasant or overwhelming, but constant and steady. The seconds stretch into minutes, all the while the anticipation builds, culminating in a sigh from Fives.

"I believe you."

Rex, arms resting on his legs, looks at his little brother.

"I can't explain it, but —” the ARC trooper shakes his head as if doing so will set his thoughts straight — “you know things. Things you shouldn't have been able to know. And I can't put my finger on it, but you're different, smile more but at the same time are so...sad."

He looks at Rex.

"And I don't know what it is or what it could be, but we've seen some crazy shit together. Dying and coming back to the past is as good an explanation as any. So, I believe you."

Rex doesn't know what to say, doesn't think they are words in basic or mando'a that can encapsulate the affection and love he feels for his brother. He settles for a smile, and it's probably wan and maybe a little teary, but he hopes it can say what he can't.

"Thank you." He tries, and the ARC Trooper nods, smiling back.

Fives eyes catch on something on Rex's person, and the blonde watches as his brother's face goes from understanding to curious.

"What have you got there?"

Rex looks down and sees his wedding band, still attached to the chain, in his hand. It's an old habit, fiddling with it when thinking or just bored, and he hadn't realized he'd started playing with it until his brother had pointed it out.

"Is that a ring?" Fives sounds positively gleeful, and he pulls himself up onto the cot, seating himself practically in Rex's lap to get a better look.

"It is!"

"Get off–!"

It takes some effort, removing Fives from his lap, and it almost dumps both of them on the floor in the process. In the end, they both stay on the bed, Fives leaning far too close into Rex's personal space.

"I didn't think you were the jewelry type."

"For the right person, I am."

He's said too much if the unholy grin spreading across his brother's face is any indicator. He would be more upset at his slipup, if it weren't for the matching grin, he can feel on his own face and the lightness in his heart he hadn't expected to feel for weeks.

"What kind of person could be crazy enough to catch your eye?"

"Watch your tongue, that's my wife you're talking about."

Fives' face is priceless as he processes Rex's words and their implications, and Rex can't help himself. The laughter that bubbles out of him feels both freeing and wrong; Wrong after all that happened, when so many of his brothers lay dead, after so much loss; Freeing, to know that he still can, that despite everything he did, Krell couldn't take this from him.

And he knows his vod'ika has a million questions, can see them flitting about behind golden eyes. He prepares himself for the onslaught when Fives opens his mouth, only for the question to be transformed into a jaw cracking yawn.

Rex shakes his head, amused and fond.

"Get some sleep, Fives."

His brother looks like he's about to protest when a second yawn overcomes him and grudgingly concedes the point.

Fives stands, one finger pointed at Rex.

"I want answers.”

"Later, " Rex promises, all but shoving his brother out of the cell. "Sleep well, Vod."

The door closes with an electric hum, and Rex makes his way back to the bunk.

Exhaustion claims him the second his head touches the pillow, and all too soon, he finds himself falling asleep.

He keeps falling...

Falling...

Falling...

Falling through blood and death, the noise of battle raging around him. It is a kaleidoscope of sound and color, screams, and blasters blurring together until it's impossible to tell the sound of his voice apart from the bark of his DeeCees. Through it all, he spirals from battle to battle: the heat and sand of Geonosis, his armor still unpainted and new; to the frozen moon of Pantora, snow gear frosted over and growing heavier with each passing minute; the choking taste of the Blue Shadow Virus, each breath harder to take than the last, until all at once, his feet hit the deck, sending shock racing up his calves and spine.

The ambient noise of the star destroyer is defining after the chaos of the battles, the hum of hyperspace hardy even background to the ringing in his ears.

He can hear himself speaking, but it's without his permission, his words and actions separate from his thoughts.

“Yes, Lord Sidious.”

No, his mind screams, and within the confines of his own body, he rails against the inhibitor chip. No, he screams as the doors open, and he pulls out his blasters, leveling them at the young and confused face of Ahsoka Tano. He fights harder, thrashing against the walls of his skin, will be damned if he lets the order take him without a fight. Find him. Find him. Fives. Find him! FIVES!

Its a battle unlike any other, waged against himself, the most important in his life. But he cannot hold out, cannot win, and at the end of things, he fails. Mind exhausted and worn, he loses what little control he had scraped together, pulls the trigger. The programming takes over, and Rex can do nothing but watch as he and his men fire volley after volley at the former Jedi. Locked in the deepest corner of his own mind, he can only pray that they don’t find her as they comb the ship. Silently weeps when she steps out, distracted from the droids behind him long enough for the electricity to coarse through his body - vision going white.

The light spreads, at first cold and sharp, but soon enough gives way to the soft yellow glow of the morning sun filtered through closed eyes.

He's roused by the sensation of fingers lazily dancing over an exposed hip.

"Morning."

Her voice is light and playful, and he takes a moment to grin into the pillow before opening his eyes and looking behind him.

In the light of dawn, with the sheets pooled around her waist and sleep shirt slipping down one shoulder, she looks like an angel: her blue eyes sparkle, and the sound of birds caries through the open window.

"Morning."

He rolls over to face her, and she combs her fingers through his beard, eliciting a smile at the sensation.

“We slept in, didn’t we?” his voice rumbles in his chest. Beside him, Ahsoka hums, lips pulled up in a grin. There is a glint of mischief in her eyes that holds the promise of something more, coy and inviting, and no small amount exciting.

"Just a little."

“Then we better get up,”

He can’t hide the smile in his voice, but two can play at this game. Rex sits up and makes a show of stretching - careful not to look at her or else lose his resolve- and he can feel her eyes on him, searing into his skin. In his mind's eye, he pictures her smile growing, teeth bared, and cheeks dimpled. A quick peak confirms his suspicion.

“Long day ahead of us, can’t start if we’re still in bed.”

She slides up next to him, turning his face toward hers with a delicate finger, one of her white eyebrow marks raised in challenge.

"Is that so?"

Her grin is infectious as she settles herself across his hips in a fluid motion, her head tails swaying with the movement. He brings both hands up to her waist both to steady her and to hold her close, thumbs running gentle circles over ochre skin.

"Prove it, Captain."

She leans in and kisses him, slow and deep, and he lets his hands wander underneath her shirt. Over soft skin and up, following the dips and curves of her body, feeling the strength hidden there. Her hands wander in turn, roaming over his chest and arms, slipping under the waistband of his sleep pants. He can feel her tremble oh so slightly under his touch, muscles coiled with anticipation. It spurs his hands higher, fingertips ghosting over sensitive flesh, cupping a -

A loud bang jolts him into consciousness, and Rex instinctively reaches for the warm body that should be there with him. Instead, his hands find nothing but air, and it takes him a moment to process the too harsh lighting and hard metal bunk, the hum of the energy shield that separates his cell from the rest of the room.

For the second time in as many days, Rex's mind must grapple with waking up after expecting to never do so again. But for the first time, he has more than an instinct or a gut feeling to go off of. He's in the same room, the same place as he remembers last being, has two sets of memories for how yesterday went down, and it pushes the few doubts he had left about his reality from his mind.

The future as he remembers it plays out in his mind's eye, and the question from earlier pushes to the forefront:

What now?

[phoenixyfriend]

For your suddenly omegaverse au what exactly happened? Like I think obiwan and Anakin hop over from cannon verse to omegaverse but I am unclear on if there already existed obiwan and Anakin in omegaverse. Did they die early or do they just not exist or are they just not force sensitive and therefore not a part of the order? Is there still a sith conspiracy around Anakin?

Context: Original Post, Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom, Soap Operas

So, from the original post:

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse

Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don’t exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood.

To clarify: There has never been an Anakin Skywalker in this AU. There has never been an Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They don't know this for sure when they land in the AU, though. All they know is that the Jedi have no record of either of them. They figure, well, maybe they just got lost in the shuffle. Anakin wasn't found until he was nine, after all, and that was only by great coincidence.

The rest of this post has almost no mention of the omegaverse elements, FYI.

Warning: References to the Tusken massacre, explicit sedation and isolation of a mentally unstable individual threatening violence.

I don’t want to make light of institutionalization and involuntary holds, but Anakin is a character with a history of violence talking about repeating such an act, and that’s... a bit of an extreme case.

------

It's not that hard to convince the Temple to let them run a mission that lets them stop by Tatooine or Stewjon. Anakin cares a lot more, so Tatooine it is! Obi-Wan can tell there's something sketchy going on with Anakin's particular anxiety about this, but he rolls with it. Anakin was very specific about the timing for some reasons, and at this point, it's easier to just let it all play through.

They go well after the whole “congrats, you’re omegas... somehow,” thing has happened, a month or so before Geonosis would have happened. Obi-Wan has managed to help the council sabotage and delay the Separatist side of the war enough that they’ve gained... maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months. Just a little more time to keep a few more people alive. Nobody’s reached out to Kamino yet, and Jango isn’t staging a failed assassination to draw someone in, either. They’ve bought enough time for Anakin to spend his vacation time checking in on his mom seeing if he exists here, and Obi-Wan can go with him.

They get to Tatooine. They wander about, and Anakin doesn't actually explain where they're going, but takes them straight to where the Lars farm is. Obi-Wan lets Anakin tell him that it was the Force that led him to the right area. Anakin can sense that his mom is in there, and Obi-Wan chalks up the relief from his former padawan to 'she's here and we don't have to look for her.'

Anakin is... panicking. Just a bit. What if he shows up and it turns out this reality's Anakin is off doing something completely unrelated and she realizes he's the wrong person? Or what if she doesn't recognize him and he calls her Mom anyway? What if he fucks up and says something stupid or just starts crying on her? She'll think he's insane.

Obi-Wan... takes over.

Anakin stays hidden, listening. Obi-Wan knocks on the door, and asks if there's a 'Shmi Skywalker' in residence. Someone in town mentioned her. He explains that he has a young friend of about twenty years--they're not sure, exactly, because the friend doesn't know his own birthday, but it's about there--who happens to be a Skywalker, and they're trying to see if they can reconnect him with a parent. They don't have much to go off of other than the surname... the Shmi that lives here wouldn't happen to have ever had any children about that age?

No. She hasn't had any children of her own blood, actually, her only child is her stepson, but she'd be happy to meet this other Skywalker, if he's in the area. It's always nice to find family, and connecting with those that were separated from you is a big deal on Tatooine. She's not going to look a gift bantha in the mouth.

(Cliegg, dear, put down the rifle.)

Obi-Wan promises to let his friend know, bids them goodbye, and goes to find Anakin.

Anakin is having a bit of a breakdown.

As one does.

Anakin insists that they stick around for a bit, that they do what they can to protect the farm, because that's his mom, even if she's not really his mom, and Obi-Wan can tell there's a Lot Going On here. He assumes it's because Anakin's upset his mom doesn't know him, which is a little irrational on account of their two options being "Anakin doesn't exist (and so Shmi doesn't know him)" and "Anakin does exist (but Shmi doesn't know this Anakin, so she still doesn't know him)," but Anakin's not a very rational person.

Obi-Wan thinks tamping down the current crisis is probably a little more important than chastising Anakin's attachment issues, mostly because Anakin's hands are shaking, and he's looking a little wild-eyed, and like. Obi-Wan's not great at dealing with Anakin's many and varied emotions, but he's learned at some point when it's best to just... roll with it Until There's Less Risk of Stab or Sobbing Laughter.

He helps figure out some minor fuckery with the Force to hide the family in the homestead behind them from visitors, and to warn them to hide when someone comes by. It’s not a lot--mostly just meditating and asking the Force for a helping hand--but it’s nice.

Except, well, Anakin keeps fidgeting. He keeps panicking. He has them coming back almost daily for a week, always too scared to talk to his mom but insistent on protecting her, and always looking at the calendar. Obi-Wan wants to get back to the Temple, but whatever the actual hell is going on with Anakin is too big to just ignored.

A specific day comes and goes. Anakin is a mess of jitters and nerves, and finally Obi-Wan asks just the wrong (right?) question, and... they visit Shmi.

Anakin says they can talk later, he just wants to see his mom One Last Time.

(Obi-Wan is getting more and more worried, but he sits through the incredibly awkward meeting between Anakin and his alt-universe mom, watches as Anakin has no idea what to say and almost cries, and Shmi just kind of lets him do that and Beru--a sweet girl, Obi-Wan thinks, and very practical--tells him that this is all very normal for reunited slaves.)

(Obi-Wan wonders if maybe there’s some stuff Anakin never told him about how being a slave affected him.)

(Obi-Wan had thought they’d moved past most of this, but..)

The meeting ends. There’s hugging.

They get back to the ship, and Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin fall apart. Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin cry and scream into a pillow, hyperventilate and nearly punch a hole in the wall as he rages about how it was all for nothing! Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin break into a million pieces in a way he’s never seen before.

Obi-Wan gets a confession.

Anakin tells him about the Tuskens.

It’s not an easy conversation. It’s not a short conversation, either. Anakin’s full of pain and misery and rising guilt, talks about how he’s been asking himself if it would be easier to keep his mother safe if he just killed them all now, except Obi-Wan would know, and be disappointed, and sure the Chancellor had said that they were little more than rabid animals, but Anakin doesn’t think he can kill the younglings again when his mom is still fine, and--

Obi-Wan sedates him.

He wants to say that he’s not proud of this, but... Anakin isn’t well. Anakin isn’t well in a way that is currently, specifically, revolving around doing extreme violence. Anakin is talking about going out and committing a slaughter as preventative maintenance.

Anakin stays sedated until they get back to the Temple, and he’s put in Force-suppressant cuffs--Obi-Wan quietly tells them to use something that can’t be sliced or taken apart by a droid specialist, and to avoid collars because Anakin was a slave for nearly a decade, and has a lot of traumatic associations--and in an isolated room.

It’s not a cell. Not technically.

He can’t just leave, though.

Obi-Wan hates himself for it, just a little. He doesn’t want to be doing this, not to his padawan, his brother, his son, but... a massacre. Even the younglings, he’d said.

(“He said he didn’t think he could do it again,” Obi-Wan mutters, half to himself and half to the mind healer that asks for his rundown of the situation. “I think he knows it was wrong, but...”)

(But he still did it, of course.)

It’s... better than Obi-Wan feared, but worse than he hoped.

Anakin is emotionally unstable. He has been, for a long time, but he’s usually functional. When the mind healer isn’t directly poking at his worst wounds, Anakin can more or less pass for... not okay, necessarily, but no worse than anyone else in the war had. He can say the right words. He can do a joint meditation. He can talk about philosophy the way a Knight that’s taken all the right classes does.

But part of Anakin still holds to the idea that the Tuskens deserved to die.

“This is my fault,” Obi-Wan whispers, more than once, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I should have...”

“He was an adult,” says Mace, who isn’t Mace, not the one that Obi-Wan knows, but a newer friend, one that’s still figuring how to act around him. “Young, but still an adult. He made that choice.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. Things aren’t that simple.

“The timing can’t have been a coincidence,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself, later on, but in the same spot, and the same position.

The Quinlan of this universe shrugs. He knows Obi-Wan better than most, right now. Psychometry’s helpful that way, and sharing Obi-Wan’s heat hadn’t hurt. “Seems likely. You said Sith were involved and setting traps, and a kid like yours, with that much power and trauma... ripe for the molding.”

Obi-Wan whines, and then catches the noise and stuffs it back down, locks it up tight with the other ‘instinct’ things he doesn’t like to think about having. The sound already has Quinlan shifting closer, and the smell is... intended to be comforting, he thinks. Reacting to his own distress, which he’s probably just pumping out right now, because he still doesn’t know how to--

“Can I help?” Quinlan asks, and Obi-Wan lets him.

Someone gets through to Anakin, maybe, or he just lets himself be ground down, or Obi-Wan’s entreaties that he can’t teach Ahsoka until he understands his crimes get through. He won’t be trusted around the clones until the Jedi can trust him to do the right thing, they inform him.

“I wouldn’t hurt the clones.”

“Nobody’s going to believe that until you understand your crimes and truly, actually feel remorse for them.”

There wasn’t a crime, technically. Not in this universe. That tribe is still alive, here, unknowing of the fate they escaped by dint of Anakin talking himself down from committing another slaughter.

(He tells the mind healer it’s because Obi-Wan was there.)

(He might have done it, he says, if he hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would be disappointed in him.)

(He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion, that Obi-Wan’s opinion is worth more than the horror of what he might become.)

“We’re going to keep an eye on anyone talking to Palpatine,” Shaak tells him one day, after Anakin’s been mental instability hold for two weeks. “We don’t know for sure how far the similarities extend from your universe to ours, but given everything else you’ve been right about...”

“That bad?” Obi-Wan asks.

Shaak grimaces, fangs glinting in the light. “I want to believe we’d have never allowed a child into such a position, but I can’t know what political leverage may have been used in your dimension... whatever reason was had to put Skywalker in those rooms, we know the consequences now--”

“What did he do to my padawan?” Obi-Wan demands, because Anakin won’t even tell him that. Anakin hasn’t mentioned Palpatine since they left Tatooine. Not to Obi-Wan.

“Nothing physical,” Shaak manages. “But the lies he told and the suggestions he planted... it’s good they haven’t met again yet in this life. We’ll all be keeping them far apart.”

He wants to take solace in that. “Why do you know before I do?”

“Skywalker values your opinion,” she says. “Only yours. He doesn’t want you more disappointed in him than you already are, so much of what is relayed to the council as a matter of security goes no further, but this was deemed necessary to share. He agreed to it, if you worried we’d broken his confidence.”

Anakin’s therapy would normally be entirely private.

Anakin’s therapy would normally not be in response to confessions of mass slaughter.

He hasn’t asked to be let out, which Obi-Wan hopes is a sign that he realizes at least subconsciously that he was in the wrong. The mind healer says he could have been released under watch by a Master probably a day or two after he arrived, but seems to be drawing some kind of comfort in knowing he couldn’t hurt someone even if he tried.

Obi-Wan is Anakin’s emergency contact. His next of kin. His healthcare proxy. Anakin has a right to privacy, minor as it is in such a situation, and everyone recognizes and treats him as an adult, but... Obi-Wan learns as much from the mind-healer as he would have back when Anakin was actually a child.

“He trusts you to make the right decisions,” the mind healer tells him, careful and unassuming. “He has... a lot of conflicting opinions about many things, including the order, the coming war, the nature of human reproductive dynamics, the Code... but he seems keen on the idea that you are his best reference on morality and ethics.”

Oh, good, more horrifying responsibility.

“He’s better,” the mind healer tells him. “I want to get him out of here before he starts going stir crazy while still relying on the perceived safety as a crutch for his mental health. And he--”

“He’ll be staying with me,” Obi-Wan says, heavy as anything. “I know.”

“Well... there’s a war coming,” the mind healer says. She offers a thin smile when he looks at her. “I don’t want him going out, but it makes him feel useful, gives him a direction for the aggression, and... the Council is adamant that we’ll need him as much as we need you.”

It’s true.

“Did he tell you why everyone called him the Hero With No Fear?”

“No.”

“Ask him.”

[beatrice-otter]

Fic: Past Lives, Chapter 10/?

On AO3 Chapter Ten

Jocasta sat in her quarters, legs crossed, eyes closed, in a posture of meditation. But meditation had brought little clarity, and so it was time for logical thought. They had found many disturbing things that would seem to support Finn’s stories, but it was all circumstantial. Nothing that would hold up in a court of law. Nothing that a sufficiently glib politician could not explain away. Nothing that could not be simply a corrupt, power-hungry man who cared more for his own power than for the ideals of democracy. Nothing that proved he was a Sith—and nothing that disproved it, either.

So. If Finn was right, and they failed to act, they and the galaxy were doomed. If Finn was wrong, and they acted, the Order would be humiliated and face deep sanctions.

That is, if they acted … publicly.

The question was, what private actions could they take? The Council had already updated the Temple emergency plans for how to respond if the Clones should attack the Temple, and decided that although they were a target here, vulnerable people such as the injured, the elderly, and the young would be even more of a target if they were relocated and Palpatine were to hear about it. And they could not guarantee that he would not. Getting that many people out of the Temple would be hard to conceal.

Jocasta narrowed her focus. There were others who could plan for the safety of the order as a whole. Her responsibility was narrower. If the Order fell, so would the archives. And even if the people survived, any rebuilding would be much easier if they had the appropriate reference, training, and historical materials.

The Archives were massive, and could not possibly be moved in the time available without it being immediately obvious what was happening. But … a portion of them could. If she narrowed the focus to the specifically Jedi texts, and only the most important of those, it might be possible to pare the list down to a manageable number. Holocrons were some of the most tightly-packed data carriers available; if she eliminated the holographic guardian, she could fit many more texts in a single holocron than on a book disk of the same size. Jedi going off-world could be given them and told not to mention them to any but another Jedi.

Surely some would survive.

Barriss Offee listened quietly and calmly as Vokara Che explained that there was a chip inside the brains of the clone troopers whose function they did not know, but which was suspected of having programs that could override the clones’ wills and force them to do any number of terrible things. As Master Che explained that they could only study and heal the problem with the greatest secrecy because there was a chance—a slight chance, and probably only a fantasy—that the chip had been emplaced by the Chancellor, as part of a plan to overthrow the Republic and destroy the Jedi.

Barriss’ demeanor was no surprise to those around her, because Bariss did everything quietly and calmly. Barriss was a model Jedi, and had been known to be such since she arrived in the crèche.

If only they knew, Barriss reflected dimly. She was not calm. She had never been calm. She had learned iron control because a blank face and a quiet Force-presence won praise from the Masters, if not from her peers. She’d never been able to make friends among her peers, and so she had focused on a more attainable goal. And now, she was very, very, very good at hiding her feelings, even from herself.

She couldn’t hide them from herself any longer.

It fit. It all fit, she realized dimly. All the horrible things she had seen in the war, all the ways in which her fellow Jedi—her Master, the Council—had fallen short of the ideals she had been taught as a child. All the senseless, useless pain and misery. All the evil. The Jedi were complicit, but they were not the root of it. They were just tools duped by the mastermind. It was Palpatine who had been behind it all along. Palpatine, who had prospered while everyone else suffered. A tide of rage rose within her, but she forced it back into its cage, where no one but she could feel it.

Nothing Barriss had ever said had made one Sith-damned bit of difference. The whole Order had been all too willing to throw itself away and destroy everything good that had ever been a part of it. She had pointed out every problem, every place the Jedi were falling short, and at best people had sighed and agreed that it was unfortunate, but that nothing could be done.

Usually, they attacked her for not supporting the war effort.

Barriss had given up talking. Nobody listened to words any more, all they could hear was violence. Well, Barriss was a Jedi, her weapon was her life. Few people knew violence as intimately as a Jedi did. All that she was lacking was a target, something that would make people stop and take notice. She’d begun to wonder if she shouldn’t just blow up the Temple itself.

But it wasn’t the Jedi’s fault at all, was it? It was Palpatine’s fault. If the one pulling the strings died, then everything would stop. Even if he wasn’t a Sith, even if the chips in the clones’ brains were entirely benign, it was all his fault. He was the one who had failed to find a compromise the Separatists could live with. He was the one who had failed to make peace with them. He was the one who prioritized the war over everything else. He was the one who demanded the Jedi take charge of the war effort. He was the reason she, a healer, had ever been in combat at all.

She could get a bomb in to the Senate. They never paid enough attention to biological threats; all she needed was a person who had business in or near the Chancellor’s office during working hours.

Palpatine was a great and good and kind man. He could not be the mastermind behind the war; he could not be a Sith. Anakin couldn’t believe it. No amount of meditation calmed his thoughts, and it was a good thing Ahsoka wasn’t here to see how distracted he was, because he was setting a terrible example of what a Jedi should be.

And yet … Finn wasn’t lying. The Force sang with his sincerity.

There was something else, though, that Anakin couldn’t stop thinking about. Palpatine was the more immediate threat, and in all the worry over the possibly-impending doom of the Republic and the Jedi and the clones, everyone else seemed to have forgotten Finn’s reaction to meeting Anakin.

That, at least, was something he could do something about.

He invited Finn to his tent, and turned on the white noise generator. He’d tinkered with it himself. Nobody was going to overhear anything Anakin didn’t want them to.

“So, Finn,” he said, “Tell me about Luke Skywalker.”

“He’s a legend,” Finn said. “He was the last Jedi of the old Order, hidden on some backwater world and trained in secret, and he killed the Emperor and Darth Vader both. He was a fighter pilot in the Rebellion, too, he led Rogue Squadron, which was the greatest squadron of the rebellion. He personally shot down the first Death Star. After the war, after the New Republic was formed, he started a school for Jedi. One of his students—his nephew—turned to the Dark Side and slaughtered the rest of the students before fleeing to the First Order. Master Skywalker disappeared, and nobody heard from him for almost a decade before my friend Rey found him.”

Anakin folded his arms, trying to take this in. Given the timing, this Luke Skywalker would almost have to be his son. Skywalker wasn’t an uncommon name in the slave quarters of Tatooine, but he’d never heard of another Skywalker anywhere else in the galaxy. After he was found, the Council had sent a Jedi to search for any other Force-sensitive younglings in the worst parts of his home planet, but hadn’t found any.

Padmé was too consumed with the war effort to even think about children until after the war was done, but Anakin sometimes got through the grimmer parts of the war by fantasizing about having a life with just him, and Padmé, and children, in a house on Naboo.

Was that what happened? Did he and Padmé escape the destruction and run away and hide together? Was there hope and brightness even in the grim future Finn painted for them? It wouldn’t be so bad, if they were together, if they could raise a family together.

“His nephew?” Anakin asked. Did he and Padmé have multiple children, then?

“Yeah.” Finn nodded. “His sister Leia’s kid.”

Two kids! That was great!

“Hey, can I ask you a question about names?” Finn asked.

“Names?” Anakin parroted.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Stormtroopers don’t get names at all, and I’m still kind of confused by all the different ways humans do names. Skywalker is a family name, right? How do you decide which family name your kids are going to get? Mother’s name? Father’s name? Something else?”

“Skywalker can be a family name,” Anakin said. “I was born a slave on Tatooine, and lots of times the masters call someone a name they don’t want to have. Skywalker is also one of the names that if you don’t have a family name—or you don’t like the one you have—it’s one that anybody can claim, and sometimes people get adopted into it, too. My mother called herself Skywalker, so it’s my name, too.”

“Oh,” Finn said. “So you’d pass it on to your kids?”

“I’d like to,” Anakin said. “It’s all I have left of my Mom.”

“Then do you know why Master Luke’s sister has a different last name?”

Anakin frowned. He and Padmé hadn’t ever really talked about names for any hypothetical children they might have; they’d barely even talked about the possibility that they might one day have children. “Maybe my wife wanted her to have her name?” he said. He didn’t know anything about Naboo naming customs, he realized. Which last name would it even be? Amidala was her political name; it had been a new name created just for her when she was elected queen. Did it pass to her kids or did it end with her? Would she want the kids to be named Naberrie like the rest of her family? Finn would probably know, he realized. “What was the name?”

“Leia Organa.”

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[ofsteelandstardust]

@highgrounded​ // wanted a grievous starter

Grievous must at least internally admit there’s not better man to help to reinforce his newfound “good guy” status than Obi Wan Kenobi. Their history of antagonistic banter and dueling has been long and lasting, until now. He’s seen the errors of the ways, the horrors of the truth he was forced to confront. He’s hurt innocent people, he’s slowed progress by fighting Jedi and he’s served as the Separatist’s loyal dog for many years. The people who made him a monster made him more than a monster than just looks. They made him a monster in personality and behavior. He may not be able to change his appearance but for the other aspects of himself... He can certainly try. 

Their aid is unexpected. Fisto is supposed to be dead and he himself was assumed to be M.I.A. Months of training have prepared him for this. Jedi Order crest proudly displayed on his chest, he charges forward. Confused Troopers shoot at him, only to stop after Fisto’s hurried explanation. Well that, and upon witnessing him slaughter battle droids in sweeping, graceful arcs. 

Path cleared, he continues to charge forward. The distress signal Fisto and himself intercepted described that Kenobi and his forces were outnumbered. That and Kenobi and a group of stormtroopers where trapped. But where? With a low, frustrated growl he continues to search, killing the occasional droid as he does so. After 20 minutes of fruitless searching, he discovers a partially collapsed hallway. The debris is made of metal and stone. Surely Kenobi could cut through that.... Or not, Grievous thinks, as he spots a lightsaber on his side of the rubble. 

“I never expected you to make such an amateur mistake, Kenobi,” he shouts, activating two of his lightsabers of which the hum of them activating echo throughout the hallway. “Fisto must have contacted you by now, yes? I will cut you free on the condition you tell your stubborn, foolish Troopers not to shoot me in the face. Whether you believe Fisto or not, surely you all must understand you are more valuable alive than dead.”

[whittlebaggett8]

Zakir Musa and Kashmir: Beyond Al-Qaeda

On the morning of Might 24, government forces in Indian-administered Kashmir declared the killing of a domestically popular militant commander, Zakir Musa, following a 10-hour gun struggle. Countless numbers of people today attended his funeral, held at his house in Tral region of South Kashmir. Seemingly spontaneous civilian protests also broke out in several elements of the disputed Himalayan region, subsequent which Indian authorities imposed a curfew and minimize off online companies.

Because their 1947 independence from British rule, both of those India and Pakistan have been persistently jostling with each individual other for handle about the Kashmir location. The two neighbors have fought a few wars and administratively divided the erstwhile princely condition. But due to the fact attaining nuclear energy position in the early 1990s, both have prevented an all-out confrontation even though occasional skirmishes and proxy wars between the two continue to be a threat to peace in South Asia. Most not long ago, when a motor vehicle suicide bomber hit an Indian military convoy killing 40 men in February, the sub-continent was pushed to the brink of a potential nuclear war.

For at least 3 times considering that the information of his loss of life was damaged to Kashmiris, a flurry of people arrived to Musa’s home to pay out their tributes to the fallen militant. Having said that, Musa was a controversial determine. The 25-calendar year-old’s declaration of allegiance to al-Qaeda a several many years ago not only exposed new faultlines in Kashmir’s militancy, but also extra a new, unpredictable dimension to the longest stretching conflict in the entire world. His pan-Islamist stance prompted distress amid Indian security agencies, as effectively as among the Pakistan-backed separatist groups functioning in Kashmir, who accused him of being section of an Indian conspiracy to discredit Kashmir’s political struggle.

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Even however Musa had only a handful of fighters fully commited to his cause and most of them have presently been killed, his thoughts nonetheless have many takers.

At Musa’s residence, a substantial accumulating of men and young boys sat under a tent pitched in the garden. Posters of the lifeless militant were hung throughout four sides, and speakers have been placed in the corners. His grieving father, Abdul Rashid Bhat, a government employee, sat going through the crowd. Subsequent to him, a middle-aged guy keeping a microphone tackled the accumulating.

“Youth are staying misguided, and turned on every single other for political gains. If you talk to me currently, children are offering us an choice, we should really not oppose them and label them as agents,” he stated. “We really should welcome them in its place not act as the sole bearers of the movement. No question one can use wisdom and be nuanced but what has been attained by means of that in all these a long time?”

One of the younger boys in the collecting, Sameer, experienced traveled all the way from Srinagar – about 40 km from Tral – together with six other pals to exhibit his regard for Musa. “He was telling them the reality. Why really should we struggle India to be a part of Pakistan? We need to battle them all and set up legislation according to the Sharia. There is no thought of country-condition in Islam,” he reported with self-confidence. “Musa bhai (brother) spoke for Muslims. He courted Indian Muslims to join the jihad due to the fact he understood what they had been dealing with. He also invited Pakistani Muslims to sign up for the real jihad.”

A university dropout from a well-to-do family members, Zakir Rashid Bhat (Musa’s real name) joined the militancy at the age of 19. His spouse and children members allege that he went down that path immediately after remaining harassed by Indian governing administration forces. He joined Hizbul Mujahideen (HuM), the oldest Pakistan-supported militant group running in Kashmir, in 2013. In the subsequent many years, he arrived to be acknowledged by his nom de guerre, Musa. But in all that time he primarily played a supporting part right until Burhan Wani, the encounter of new-age militancy, was killed at the age of 21 in a shootout by Indian governing administration forces in July 2016.

Wani is credited with getting revived militancy in Kashmir utilizing social media after a 10 years of lull, which noticed numerous mass civilian protests crushed by Indian safety forces. His dying was adopted by another yr-extensive spell of mass civilian protests, which achieved the exact destiny. In the meantime, Musa, a single of Wani’s close aides, was elevated as Wani’s clear successor amongst the militant ranks that commanded mass civilian support.

In an unanticipated shift in the early 2017, Musa accused Hurriyat – the political confront of the secessionist movement in Indian-administered Kashmir – of hypocrisy, and threatened to slash off their heads in an audio assertion. He also announced his ambition of establishing Sharia law in each India and Pakistan. “I will not battle for a secular/democratic state,” he declared. “My blood will spill for Islam of Sharia, not only in Kashmir but in India and Pakistan, also.”

The household dwelling in which Musa experienced been cornered by Indian govt forces.

This kind of statements by him drew solid disagreements from the HuM management based mostly in Pakistan-administered Kashmir which led him to splinter and begin a new militant faction, named Ansar-Gazwatul-Hind. This revolt made him the new face of militancy in Kashmir, second only to Wani, and he utilised it to his gain to propagate his views.

Musa did not restrict his criticism to India, but also openly castigated Pakistan for hampering the trigger of jihad. In just one of his final audio releases, Musa explained, “The reality is that the Pakistani military is the slave of America and no unique from them. They befool militants, particularly militants of Pakistan-administered Kashmir only Allah is there to aid us.”

According to senior police officers, Musa’s group did not acquire any logistical or money assistance from al-Qaeda, as the team had no community in the location, and his fallout with Hurriyat leaders also lower off help that Pakistan-backed teams like HuM experienced. This is why they could not survive for prolonged. “No question he was a menace to the security and peace in the condition, but even far more concerning was the perilous new ideology he was preaching,” a senior law enforcement official mentioned. “It was essential to get rid of him. You can deal with men and women or groups but battling ideologies is a tricky and lengthy fight.”

Aamir, a PhD scholar at Kashmir College, states, “People believe Zakir Musa arrived very first and then arrived the ideology, but that is an incorrect and illogical conclusion.” The ideology was by now there, he argues, Zakir Musa just became the encounter of it by speaking it out publicly. In his viewpoint, persons, specially children, in the valley turned to Musa because of to a lack of a far better selection.

Father of Burhan Wani, Mr. Muzzaffar, becoming courted for picture requests at Musa’s home.

“Whoever comes up coming may well not be as well-liked as him but the ideology will be carried ahead. We also have to accept the fact now that Musa has been killed by exact same forces that are noticed as occupiers, (so) his concept and ideas will resonate much more with the men and women,” he extra.

Aamir also thinks that Kashmir’s youth are embracing new pan-Islamic tips due to a sense of rising threat to the Muslim id in India and throughout the globe. “Today, data how Muslims are remaining slaughtered in India and close to the earth is offered freely to absolutely everyone and that performs a massive portion. They see how UN hasn’t accomplished nearly anything to prevent it. And infarct has facilitated it. You might connect with pro-Pakistan fighters (as) rebels and al-Qaeda (as) terrorists, but Indian media do not differentiate, and nor does the Indian army. So why should it subject to widespread Kashmiris?”

The post Zakir Musa and Kashmir: Beyond Al-Qaeda appeared first on Defence Online.

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[redrobinhoods]

Age of Heroes | Chapter 10, Telos

AO3 Link | 3340 words (approx) | Prologue, Chapter 9, Epilogue

Chapter Summary: Ahsoka learns what Anakin has done

“There is a wildness to you, young one. Seeds of the dark side planted by your master. Do you feel it?” - Mortis

Ahsoka stood silently beside Anakin on the observation deck that stretched the length of the building. Neither had said a word since the call to Darth Sidious, for it had been Darth Sidious that Anakin had called. The droid units of the Separatists had been shut down by Anakin’s hand. He had ended the war. But not as a Jedi, as a Sith. The Sith had ended the war. And yet, supposedly the Sith had also orchestrated the war. Ahsoka had yet to determine the purpose for that. It couldn’t have been solely for the destruction of the Jedi, and yet, the Clone Wars had been the perfect Jedi trap. But Anakin couldn’t be a Sith lord, he was the Chosen One. It had to be a trick. There had to be something that she was missing, something that made the events of the last day make sense. Perhaps Obi-Wan still held the missing piece of the puzzle, Maul. She hadn’t heard from Obi-Wan since the call in the barracks. And yet, she couldn’t picture him dead. Not by Cody’s hand. Cody, who had perhaps become more faithful to Obi-Wan than he was to the Republic and had impudently treated her as his equal on any occasion. No, she couldn’t picture that. It was just as unlikely as Rex trying to kill her or Anakin; she wouldn’t even consider the scenario.

A beeping from inside the control room caught her attention before the reason for its chime, a Naboo starship, came into view. “Padme.” Anakin muttered. As Anakin turned to make his way to the landing platform, Ahsoka’s comm went off. Anakin stopped and looked back over his shoulder to her.

“You go ahead, Master.” Ahsoka said, not that he would’ve stayed behind anyways. Once Anakin had rounded the corner, she pulled her comm up before her. The call was from Rex’s frequency and some of the fear inside her abated. “This is Ahsoka.” She said out of habit as the hologram opened in her hand. She floundered for what to say when it was Jesse who appeared. “Lieutenant, what’s wrong?”

Jesse took a deep breath and spoke in a deliberately steady manner. “Commander Rex is in critical condition, sir. He was attacked at the Temple.”

“By who?” She’d sensed that he had been hurt but hearing it from Jesse was different. The bit of fear that had diminished reared back up inside her. They had been at the Jedi Temple.

Jesse paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t know, sir. The attacker was long gone by the time I arrived. Is Lord Vader with you?”

Lord Vader. That was how Sidious had addressed him too.

“He’s… preoccupied. I’ll let him know.”

“The Separatist leaders?”

“Dead. And we shut the droids down. I guess the war is over.”

Jesse nodded, looking around furtively for a few moments. Ahsoka wondered where he was; if he was by Rex’s side at a medical center or if he was still standing in the Temple ruins. “I’ll pass that on to Rex if he-, when he wakes up.”

“Thank you, Jesse.” She forced a small smile, one that she was certain looked as fake as it felt. The clone nodded and the hologram disappeared. Once she was sure the connection had ended she pressed her hand to her forehead, fighting back the pain that was surging within her. She couldn’t bear to imagine why the 501st had been at the Jedi Temple. Not now, she couldn’t handle it now. She could grieve later. Rex would pull through, she still had Anakin and Padme, she herself was still alive. They would all be okay.

The crunch of metal broke her from her concentration. The wall of the facility behind her had crumpled in. She looked around, hoping to see someone, anyone, who she could blame for the destruction. There was nobody else. She shuddered as the new voice praised her actions, humming approval, asking how good it had felt. It was right. It had felt good. And that horrified her. She couldn’t stand to be alone anymore.

She followed the hallways she had gone down before to the main landing pad. On her entrance to the facility, they had been busy with the sound of machinery and beings. Now it was quiet, and the halls teemed with dread. When she was approaching the landing pad, Anakin and Padme’s raised voices reached her before they came into sight.

“…cost? You’re a good person. Don’t do this.

“I won’t lose you the way I lost my mother. I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of. And I’m doing it for you. To protect you.”

Ahsoka stepped into the doorway, hanging back in the shadows.

“Come away with me.” Padme stepped towards Anakin, pushing his hair away from his face fondly. “Help me raise our child. Leave everything else behind while we still can.”

“Don’t you see? We don’t have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic. I am more powerful than the Chancellor. I can overthrow him and together, you and I can rule the galaxy, make things the way we want them to be.”

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing.” Padme’s eyes met Ahsoka’s as she stepped away from her husband. “Ahsoka, come here.”

Ahsoka made her way slowly across the landing platform to Padme, who enveloped her in a hug before turning back to Anakin, her arm still around Ahsoka. “Does Ahsoka know what you’ve done? Did you tell her what you’ve done?” When Anakin didn’t answer, she continued. “Obi-Wan was right, you’ve changed.”

Anakin’s face twisted into a rage that Ahsoka had previously only seen reserved for Separatist generals. “I don’t want to hear any more about Obi-Wan. The Jedi turned against me. Don’t you turn against me!”

“Anakin!” Ahsoka reached out to hand to her master, who pushed it away.

“Ahsoka, look what they did to you. The Jedi cast you out. They were willing to let you take the fall and wash their hands of the matter. Don’t tell me that you’ve accepted their attempt at an apology, I know that you can hardly stand to set foot in the Temple anymore. They turned against us, Ahsoka. But we made it right. We ended the war.”

“At what cost? By allying ourselves with the Sith?” Ahsoka stopped as her anger threatened to resurface. She felt as if she could bring down the entire facility if she wanted. It’s what the voice wanted.

“For now. We can reshape the galaxy, the three of us. We can bring peace to the entire galaxy, not just the Republic, make things the way they should be. Beings need to be made to see what is best for them.”

Ahsoka felt Padme shudder. “Anakin, you are going down a path I cannot follow.”

“Because of Obi-Wan? Because the lies of the Jedi have reached you too?”

“Because of what you’ve done, what you plan to do. Stop now, come back to me. We’ll disappear, leave all of this behind.”

Anakin’s gaze fixed on something above them. “Liar!”

Ahsoka and Padme turned to see Obi-Wan standing on the ramp of the ship.

“No!”

“You’re with him. You brought him here to kill me.” Anakin snarled and Ahsoka found herself stepping between Padme and her master.

“Anakin, please.” Ahsoka said. ‘Kill Obi-Wan’ the voice in her head said.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan began to walk down the ramp. Ahsoka grasped Padme’s arm and pulled her away.

“You will not take her from me!” Anakin screamed.

“Your anger and your lust for power have already done that. You have allowed this dark lord to twist your mind until now- until now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy.”

“Obi-Wan, don’t, please don’t.” Padme begged from behind Ahsoka. Obi-Wan spared a passing glance their way then looked back to Anakin.

“Do you truly believe that Palpatine will allow you to keep them alive? He has already lost you your clone commander, will you let him take your padawan too?”

“Don’t lecture me, Obi-Wan. I see through the lies of the Jedi. I do not fear the dark side as you do. I’ll give you one chance to walk away, Obi-Wan. Retire. The fight is over, the war is over. I’ve ended it. I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire.”

Obi-Wan scoffed in disbelief. “Your new empire? We swore our allegiance to the Republic, to democracy, not an Empire.”

“If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I will do what I must.”

“Anakin.” Padme begged.

Anakin spared one long look at his wife and padawan before he turned back to Obi-Wan and ignited his blade. “You will try.”

Ahsoka’s heart sunk as Obi-Wan’s blade rose to meet Anakin’s and she grasped Padme’s hand. Anakin had asked her to keep Padme safe. That had been Anakin before. The man before her now, the man fighting his closest friend, was Darth Vader. There was a difference. Anakin’s last act had been to ask Ahsoka to protect his wife before he had let himself fall to the dark side. But that wasn’t entirely true either. His last act had been to deploy the 501st one last time. Ahsoka was starting to realize where that might have been.

Once the dueling men had stepped out of sight, Ahsoka felt a tug on her arm. She followed Padme back onto her ship and took the offered seat across from her. It took some time for her to find the courage to speak. “What did Anakin do?”

“He… Obi-Wan said- he said that Anakin killed younglings. There was a security hologram.”

They fell silent again. Tears began to well in Ahsoka’s eyes as she allowed herself to acknowledge what had happened. Anakin had killed younglings, he had been at the Temple, the 501st had been at the Temple. Anakin and the 501st had killed the Jedi. Her mentor, her men, her brothers, had killed the Jedi. One family had slaughtered another. And if Rex had been injured after the initial attack and Obi-Wan had seen the security archive then there was a good chance that her closest friend would die by her grandmaster’s blade. Tears began to fall as she realized that she hated them, she hated them all. She hated Rex, who had killed her people. She hated Obi-Wan, who had murdered her men and could possibly be a traitor. And she hated Anakin, for fostering the murder of the Jedi, for falling to the dark side, for turning on everyone who loved him. Ahsoka buried her face in her hands as all the pain she had ever felt crashed in on her. She could feel Padme’s hand on her shoulders, but through the touch she could also feel Padme’s pain. She drew that pain in and made it into her own. Anakin was dead now, killed by his own blade, by his own hubris. But he had asked her to keep Padme safe. Ahsoka would keep Padme safe.

“Ahsoka.” Ahsoka lowered her palms to meet Padme’s teary gaze. “Did you know?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.” Padme’s hand left Ahsoka’s shoulder to join her wet hands. “I don’t think anybody knew.”

Ahsoka had done nothing to stop him. She was still doing nothing. In the grand scheme of the galaxy, all she had done was nothing and for nothing. Beneath the hate that festered in her she made a resolve. It would all be worth it if she could keep Padme safe. The agony within her chest, the war that was for nothing, the deaths of thousands of clones and Jedi, she could justify it all if she could save Padme and the child. She could keep them safe.

---

The 212th descended quietly down the Acclamator ramp. Before them marched their accompanying members of the Coruscant Guard with Maul. Nobody had spoken in hours, except to give a short instruction on the flight path of the Venator or the offloading of many of the troops onto the Acclamator. At the bottom of the ramp they were met by the newly crowned Emperor Palpatine and the commanding officer of the Coruscant Guard.

Palpatine turned to Commander Fox and waved a hand in Maul’s direction. “You have your instructions. Take him to his cell, I will deal with him personally later.”

“Sir.” Fox nodded and signaled for eight of his men to join the escort.

The Emperor turned back to the group of 212th officers before him. “Where is your commander?”

“Dead, sir. The Jedi killed him.” Crys answered quietly.

“Very well, offload your men and report to the barracks. Your legion will be needed in the coming days.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the men of the 212th departed, the Emperor turned to an approaching guardsman. “Commander Thire, report.”

“We couldn’t find the Jedi, Your Majesty, but my men are still searching. Captain Kagi reports your shuttle to be ready, sir.”

The Emperor nodded and gestured to his accompanying guardsmen who had not been summoned by Commander Fox. “Come. My apprentice is in grave danger.”

---

Ahsoka’s head turned as Obi-Wan walked back into the room. Padme stood up at the sight. “Is Anakin alright?”

Obi-Wan cast them a mournful look and shook his head. Ahsoka stood up and squeezed Padme’s hands before walking past Obi-Wan to the landing ramp. She stopped at the top of the ramp to give R2-D2 a last fond pat.

“Ahsoka.” Padme called after her.

“Ahsoka, this facility is falling apart. Come with us.” Obi-Wan begged.

Ahsoka looked back up to them. She had come to this decision while waiting for Obi-Wan or Anakin’s return. She hadn’t decided on what to do if Anakin had returned, but she had for Obi-Wan. Perhaps Anakin had been wrong, Obi-Wan was not a traitor. He would keep Padme safe. With Padme safe, her promise was fulfilled. Anakin needed her. “I’ll find my own way out.” She said before she descended down the landing ramp. Obi-Wan had been right. The facility was collapsing. But Anakin needed her, so she kept going. The Force was her ally, it would be her guide.

In the end, she crested a blackened hill to see two clone troopers and a hooded figure with a medical capsule between them. She ran over to them to stare into the medical capsule and nearly vomited from the sight of Anakin’s charred body. One of the clones took her by the shoulder and pulled her back. A familiar presence in the Force greeted her.

“You. You were at the landing pad.” That had been merely days ago, a lifetime. For a moment, the hot atmosphere of Mustafar became duracrete tarmac and victory hung in the air. But only for a moment.

“Yes.” The commander answered, following after the medical capsule.

Ahsoka hesitated for a moment, then followed after them. She found herself seated in the shuttle between two guardsmen, their plastoid armor radiating heat even through her bodysuit. She took notice that their boots had begun to melt, then realized that hers had as well.

“Ahsoka Tano.” The Emperor walked over to stand before her. This scene felt all too familiar. Standing before Palpatine, surrounded by the Coruscant Guard. But this time, Anakin wasn’t there to defend her. She stayed silent. “Are you loyal to your Empire?”

Ahsoka looked to the medical capsule her master now lay in, her stomach still churning at the thought of what Obi-Wan had done. She didn’t know who she was loyal to anymore. Maybe her life had turned into a game of choosing between two evils. So she chose.

“Yes.”

---

Ahsoka followed the medical droid to the far corner of the room. She was wondering if Rex was even here when the droid stopped and gestured towards a bed. She hesitantly thanked the droid and moved to Rex’s side. She’d have never known it was him if it weren’t for the droid. Most of his face was covered by a breathing apparatus with several tubes snaking out to a nearby machine. She recognized the crisscross of fabric that stretched from his hip to his shoulder as bacta patches and wondered if his condition was stable or if the facility was running out of medical supplies.

She sat on the small stool by the bed and took his hand in hers. She’d rarely held the clone’s hands, mainly doing so when they were dying. She hoped Rex wasn’t dying. Then she started to cry. She lay her head down on the medical bed next to Rex and sobbed into the fabric.

She sat up when she heard a coughing-choke and gripped Rex’s hand tighter. She watched anxiously as he struggled against the breathing tube for a few moments before starting to relax into it. She tentatively reached out with her other hand and cupped his face, stroking the soft flesh under his jaw with her fingers. She could feel his heartbeat through the skin, and it calmed her panic. He was alive. He relaxed further into her hand and she watched as his heartbeat returned to normal on the monitor.

“Hey Rexter.” She smiled as he weakly squeezed her hand in response. She should’ve still been mad at him. Right now, she should be furious that he had attacked her home, killed her people. She had been on the flight back to Coruscant, until she’d walked into the 501st barracks. She’d never seen her men look so broken before. Many of them had been crying, some still were. Others were staring blankly at the wall, which she found to be far worse. None of them could look her in the eye. And now, she had never seen Rex look so haunted, even under the sedatives. She was glad that he couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell her what he had done.

She found her hand leaving his and running lightly over the bacta patches across his torso. She hadn’t often seen lightsaber marks on living beings, certainly not this close and not on the clones. There were marks from a surgery outside of the patches, and she wondered how many millimeters Rex had been from death. The medical droid probably knew. She didn’t want to know which Jedi had done this. It still horrified her to think that the Jedi were traitors, but yet, Jedi had nearly taken her closest friends from her. It was hard to reconcile the peacekeeper image of the Jedi with the medical equipment surrounding Rex and likely surrounding her master as well. It was hard to reconcile the peacekeeper image with Anakin’s charred body.

“Anakin’s alive. He’s terribly injured, but Emperor Palpatine said that he’s going to live.” She brought her hand back to wipe tears from her eyes. “I don’t know what comes next, but we’re all going to make it. I promise.” She felt the muscles in Rex’s neck twitch and his brows contorted in pain as his throat contracted against the tube. She began stroking his neck until his muscles had once again relaxed. “Don’t, you can tell me everything later.” She brought her hand back to his and lifted it to her lips for a light kiss. “I won’t leave you again.”

She sat by him for a long time, examining the little scars that cut through his hand and forearm. Smattering from bomb shrapnel, a scar across a knuckle from a blaster bolt, the thin line across his thumb from when he had once caught her and cut himself on her akul-tooth headdress. Sometimes he watched her, other times his eyes were far away. When they were too far, she’d stroke his palm until his attention turned back to her and she’d give him a sad smile.

It was his turn to stroke her hand when a new medical droid came over with news of Anakin, and he let her lay her head on his shoulder and cry when the droid had walked away.